She's Electric
by rockstarcowboy
Summary: I'm in the process of updating the story before I add the next chapter... Stay tuned!
1. Prologue: Lucas & Brooke

_Taking place immediately after_ The Search for Something More_, this is my take on the complex relationship that exists between the characters of Brooke and Lucas on One Tree Hill. I don't own anything. Now, without further adu...  
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* * *

_**Lucas.**_

He lies in bed staring at the ceiling, a bare leg protruding out from beneath the heavy comforter. Despite a lack of sleep – or no sleep at all, rather – from the night before spent watching a drugged Peyton Sawyer, he's wide awake now, his blue eyes dancing across the shadowy ceiling. He clearly remembers the events from a very eventful yesterday, just as if they were being replayed before him like a record. But that is what one tends to do when something of great import takes place in one's life, or when something big is about to happen, or when _everything_ has changed; in fact, for Lucas Scott, everything _has_ changed. His recollection unfolds before his mind's eye, and it's like he's watching a movie.

People really aren't what they always seem to be, Lucas decides as he remembers. In a way, last night was both a blessing and a curse. The situation was horrible, but had it not happened, he wouldn't be looking at Brooke Davis in the light that he does now. He's grateful for the pain and suffering and trauma that last night created; the old adage _what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger_ comes to Lucas' mind. Although it was horrible, they're all better because of last night, Peyton and Brooke included.

_Brooke…_

She epitomizes the cheerleader stereotype, Lucas muses, but he is so thankful that he now sees in her something _greater_. Her stunning face materializes before him as he ruminates: she definitely has a fiercely extroverted personality, coupled with just the right amount of air headedness, not to mention a killer pair of legs – And, yet, so much more. She's sweet and caring, loyal. Lucas would have never thought she would have stood by Peyton the way she did last night. Lucas feels duped and deceived – he had no idea such a treasure existed beneath such a seemingly vain and shallow skin.

Yet, Lucas can't help but wonder why in the world she wants to hide this kindness, this compassion. He's certain that everyone's perception of Brooke Davis would surely change, generally for the better, if they knew what he did. Although he's mystified to her motives, he can't help but feel special, like he's the only one in on this great big secret that's being held captive from the rest of the world. He's an insider, one of the select few – the _elite_ – that actually _knows_ Brooke Davis. Or, at the very least, he knows her a little bit. That's more than most people can say.

He rises up from the bed, planting one bare foot upon the carpet, the fibers softy tickling his sole as he walks towards his computer. With the click of a button the monitor is alive with constant beeps and whooshes as the system revitalizes itself. He checks a digital clock on his standstand to find that it's 4:30 in the morning. His fingertips move with a surprising dexterity despite the hour as they gently stride atop a chain and sequence of buttons and computer keys. Within minutes he sees her - the girl that he was almost certain he was in love with_... Peyton_ - the other side to this new triangle.

She's drawing now, her gentle hands moving rapidly with the pencil across the paper. He's not surprised that she's awake. Peyton Sawyer is a lot like Lucas – which is possibly the reason for the initial attraction, that same electric spark he now imminently feels for Brooke.

Her brow is creased, he establishes through the webcam, and he can see that she's captivated by a heavy concentration. She's serious about her art, and he knows that; that's something else that enraptures Lucas about Peyton Sawyer.

_"I want to draw something that means something."_ Her words; he hears her in his head. He still can't figure out if his feelings are love; yesterday he was certain that they were. What he felt yesterday was a consuming, voracious kind of love, the kind that leaves no prisoners. She just seemed, and still seems, so perfect, so immaculately molded for him. His fingertips softly travel down the hard screen, his fingers tracing her. Is it still there though, that spark? He doesn't know because, now there is another feeling, another equally powerful spark.

In the back of his mind, he also feels Brooke Davis. He remembers how she trusted him enough to share her heart, her feelings - he questions whether or not some of the things she shared with him yesterday she ever told to anyone else.

He yearns to encounter this new side of Brooke, this new enigma - to touch it, hold it in his arms. He wonders if she's capable of loving like he can; he has so much to offer if only she'll open her soul up again. That way he would know for certain if she was more than a temptation, if what he saw yesterday was more than just a fleeting apparition. He wants to see and touch everything, to give something his heart burned to give to Peyton when she told him no. Is Brooke the girl he could give that to? Is she willing to receive?

Peyton rises and Lucas follows in step as the webcam is covered and she returns to her unmade bed. Lucas stares at his own bed as he walks towards it, feeling the soft linen between his fingertips. He slides his feet in first then collapses on his back staring off into space again. He'll be like this for a while before his eyes finally close until morning.

_**Brooke.**_

She hates geometry - In fact, Brooke Davis loathes all things arithmetic; she is not calculative by nature, rather, she's a take-charge kind of girl.

Brooke doesn't even know why she's doing her homework anyway instead of just getting the answers before class or omitting completing the assignment altogether. But tonight is different; she feels liberated. Perhaps it's that appeased karma.

When she's done with the world of proofs, postulates, and theorems, she drops the completed assignment in her ostentatiously pink and girly backpack and sets her sights on the outside world. Walking towards her large window in her even larger house, she stares beyond. The sky is blue, tinged with pitches of gold and violet that promise the coming of the moon. Her hand rests on the windowpane and she thinks about him, again. She's already talked to Peyton today, reassured that she's ok. This stress - she's heard about women graying early due to overly demanding and stressful situations that occur years before. She looks to the sky and composes a silent prayer to whatever God is listening at the moment. But P. Sawyer's worth the Herbal Essences hair color, should the need arise. _He_ is worth it.

It's nearly 4:45, she sees after looking at the ornate grandfather clock in the foyer. Lucas is probably at the River court again. She's visited him once or twice, even talked to his friends there. She recalls Mouth and the rest - she was surprised at how enjoyable the experience actually was. Who knew mingling with the groundlings could be so much fun? She was awed by how deep and profound they were. It was a nice break from the vapidity of her A-list crowd and it had been refreshing to be free from judgment and scrutiny, and finally just embrace an unconditional acceptance – if only for a little while.

Her white Volkswagen Beetle is parked in the driveway. Her mother is out at one of her perpetual luncheons at the Tree Hill Country Club that start with hor'deurves and end with countless rounds of apple martinis; these outings have been habitual for the past fifteen plus years of Brooke's life, and it is probably what her Mommie Dearest expects Brooke to do when she's grown up. The life of The Trophy Wife has always been deceptive to Brooke Davis, but secretly she's always longed for something _more_. She's never told Mother or Daddy that though. Daddy is, as usual, working. He has to bring home the bacon, so the family can feast on fine crystal and china every night of the week! After all, it takes a lot of money to pay for Mother's collagen and botox and the copious affairs Daddy's having on the side. However, Brooke's parents haven't completely forgotten about their daughter, making sure to drop a wad of 20's for Brooke's spending pleasure. She accepts the bills as her parent's penance for their lack of being there. Brooke pockets the paper and slips on a sexy new pair of Gucci stilettos she bought at Neiman's.

Her heels click down the concrete walkway towards her car, bordered by geraniums and tulips - neither one of her parents know how to garden; that would be Taquito or Chalupa or whatever his name's job. Spanish isn't one of Brooke's strengths, and interacting with the Help is something that the Davis family prides itself on _not_ attempting. But, _damn_, Brooke thinks as she strides alongside the flora and fauna, _'ole Pedro's doing a bang-up job_.

Brooke presses a button on her keypad and a shrill beeping sound reverberates through the silence of her front lawn. She pauses at her car and turns to stare at her monstrous house for a moment before entering the automobile; she can't help but marvel at her life but, somewhere in the back of her mind, she debates over whether or not all of the sacrifices are worth _this_.

It's only a momentary pause, however, and in the next instant the engine erupts through the solace of the Davis' expansive front yard. Brooke backs out, the new Faith Hill album blaring in the background.


	2. A Deal's a Deal

He dribbles the ball with an exercised grace and ease as he runs up and down the court. He knows this slab of concrete like the back of his hand – he's memorized every scratch, pothole, every single nook and cranny. His prized Jordan's softly patter upon the ground as he runs, a fresh bead of sweat trickling down his brow, his breathing heavy. The ball explodes from his hands, the rubber sphere flying through the air with the speed enough to rival a bullet. Unfortunately, Lucas' aim is off, and it bounces off of the rim and falls…

…Into her arms.

Brooke Davis stands there innocently enough, that sly smile upon her face. Lucas feels his knees go weak as she steps forward, tossing the ball back and forth with surprising skill. She seems to get more beautiful each time they meet, her dark auburn hair cascading about her shoulders and framing that stunning, unforgettable face. Her features – she is perfection. She exudes sex, lust, desire; she is the object of many a high-school boy's fantasy, this cheerleading _femme fatale_. But, despite all of her superficial blessings, she has a hidden side. Lucas knows because he is one of the lucky few to have ever seen it.

Brooke is like a golden jewelry box, he surmises. She's physically dazzling on the outside, yes. But when one slides the key in and opens her up, they are greeted with an even lovelier musical tune that promises contentment and happiness beyond that of sexual satisfaction. Brooke is lovely, but what lies beneath shows even more promise. Lucas craves the kindness, tenderness, and broken heartedness that he saw in Brooke the night before - he's _addicted_ and prays that she's for real, but, somehow, he has a feeling that he knows the truth already.

"Hey there, _Broody_." Brooke's voice is sultry and low as usual, but tonight Lucas finds it even more appealing as he turns to face her and catch the ball she tosses back to him. "Imagine running into you here… Coincidence? Or maybe we're just meant to be," she teases.

Lucas smiles back at her, beaming from ear to ear as he takes another jumpshot. This time the familiar swooshing sound permeates through the calm. Somewhere far off, there's a train whistle blowing and around the bend a car horn honks. The blazing sun is almost out of the sky, and the moon is high in the almost-ebony sheet draping the heavens.

"That depends, _Cheery_… Now, what's a pretty little girl like you doing walking around by yourself? The mall's _thataway_," he chides back, pointing off in the distance.

Brooke wraps her arms about herself. In her hasty departure to see Lucas she forgot her jacket and the twilight air is chilly. She walks to where he's standing, the basketball tucked under his arm, his blue gaze steady and unwavering upon her. She wants him so badly; yet, these feelings are strange. Brooke Davis is accustomed to one-night stands, sexual escapades with no strings attached. But with Lucas, she feels differently. She wants to feel his lips upon her own, to embrace the heat from his body, to feel his skin underneath her fingertips. Sure, she can almost taste the passion, that familiar feeling that prompted her to initiate her move. But tonight she can wait. Brooke Davis is a patient girl, and for some unknown reason, she wants more from Lucas Scott then a mere friends-with-benefits kind of relationship.

"Well, who'd 'a thunk it; tall, brooding, and handsome cracked a funny," she responded. "But if you _must_ know, I saw you out here, all hot and sweaty-like and I couldn't resist," she smirks, moving even closer, her pulse increasing with every step. "I actually had to ask you something…" She takes the ball from him and dribbles, trying her best to imitate his perfect execution. For a girl in high heels, she does pretty well, but the sight is still pretty amusing, and totally adorable. "Are you a gambling man, Mr. Scott?"

"That depends, Ms. Davis. What's your proposition?" Lucas asks, trying to keep a straight face as she attempts to pass the ball under one leg and fails miserably.

"Ok. Well, I'm dying to hit that new club downtown and I'm debating over whether or not I should bring a friend." Brooke stares about as if looking for someone, then feigns surprise when she turns back to Lucas. "Now, Peyton is still recuperating from last night's debacle so _I guess_ you're an acceptable substitute." She walks up close to him and plants her hand flat on his chest; it travels up to his shoulder and she leans in and up to whisper in his ear.

"So, you down, handsome?" Brooke whispers in that sexy voice.

Lucas knows he is lost before she finishes her sentence, but he tries to hold out anyway. "I don't know Brooke," he beams. "As much as I'd hate to pass up this opportunity, I'm not much of the clubbing type."

"Hmmm. Well, that's quite the conundrum. But I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. I _always _get what I want..." She pauses and nods towards the goal, smirking mischievously. "But just this once, we'll leave it up to God, or Buddha, or Allah, or whoever the hell's up there right now. Here's the deal: If _this_ bitch goes through _that_ basket, well, you're mine for the duration of this lovely evening."

"And if you miss?"

"Gorgeous, did I not just say that I _always_ get what I want? This ball's going in that hoop." She releases him, the ball in her hand, and walks towards the three-point line. She raises the ball, and Lucas playfully rolls his eyes.

"No way you're gonna beat Fate shooting like that. Y'know, for such a pretty girl, you have one ugly-ass shot. You're holding the ball completely wrong." Lucas walks up behind Brooke and wraps his arms around her, his large hands covering hers and indicating the correct position to maintain. "This is how we do it, Brooke," he whispers softly. Moving her hands, they throw the ball and it flies through the sky, severing the night air like a blade. It blows through the mesh of the net quickly and bounces along the cement of the court, rolling off into a ditch somewhere beyond the streetlight's glow.

"I guess that's your answer," Lucas continues quietly, his hands traveling down to her stomach. "I guess a deal's a deal…" This is the moment, he realizes. It's almost exactly as he had envisioned it, except the girl is different. It's not Peyton Sawyer, yet he feels no remorse.

"A deal's a deal, baby," she replies over her shoulder, voice hushed and husky. "It is _so_ on."

Brooke reclines her head backwards, her arm traveling up to rest behind his neck. She gently guides his head down, his lips slowly caressing her own. They brush lightly at first, and then the intensity of the moment captivates them both. His mouth opens and their tongues dance. Her lips are luscious and full, and he can practically see the sparks explode beyond his closed eyes. Her kiss is **_electric_**, like a blazing conflagration as their pace quickens, his head moving in tune with hers to gather every sweet taste.

Brooke can feel the power and turns around, wrapping both arms around his neck, her hands running through his short blonde tresses. They mold together, there on the basketball court, Lucas' holy sanctuary for so long. She's let him in, so now it's his turn to do the same. His hands travel down the small of her back and down her side. He doesn't want to let her go; he wants to hold her like this forever, in this unlikely love.

But, alas, everything ends. Lucas lets her go, but Brooke takes his hand in hers. He caresses her cheek, wiping away a thin auburn strand that's happened to fall in front of her deep jade irises.

"Thank you for that, Lucas." Brooke knows that that's what she's wanted, ever since she saw him play that first game. He captivated her, and he still does now. These past two months he's summoned up a whirlpool of strange emotions within her she never really allowed to surface; but, to be honest, she feels that she may now know how to love. This boy standing before her, holding her hand in his may possibly be the catalyst for her metamorphosis. She doesn't understand what's happening within her at this moment, and as she drives away with him sitting beside her, she's still utterly clueless as to what exactly she's feeling. She just wants more.

They pull up to the large lake at the edge of town. The moon is shining in full now, its reflection evident over the still waters. They're both wrapped in each other, consumed by emotions that they haven't yet come to understand, their kisses fiery and passionate. Lucas' lips travel down Brooke's bare neck; all the while, he never once thinks of Peyton. However, when he gets home, he'll feel guilty for some reason unknown to him.

But Lucas Scott won't regret it.


	3. The Triangle

She watches in awe at just how quickly he moves down the court, and just how staunchly he maintains control over the basketball despite the plethora of opposition blocking his path. He seems to only be focused on two things: the ball and the goal.

Lucas moves like a cat, agile and fast, with a subtle sense of cunning. Unlike Nathan, who runs about the court with the strength of a bear, Lucas is more calculating and introspective in his game. He takes time to think, to feel, to ruminate. Before he shoots he plays the scene in his head, and always has a backup plan. To someone like Nathan, who relies on brawn and brute force to get things done, Lucas' game might seem foolish, slow, too defensive… But, in truth, Lucas is just as effective as his brother.

Brooke raises her pompoms and yells at the top of her lungs, turning to the stands. She has a wild side too, obviously; it's probably the side most people are accustomed to seeing, and said facet to her personality is out in full force at the games. Few of the cheerleaders standing next to her can match her enthusiasm as she performs a toe-touch, a hurkey, and all other manners of acrobatic feats to rev up the crowd. If there ever was a candidate to show that cheerleading is a sport, it's Brooke Davis.

Peyton Sawyer stands next to her, yet Brooke knows all of her heart and gusto is a façade. In truth, Brooke doesn't really understand why her friend cheerleads in the first place; it just seems like a big waste of Peyton's time. It's paradoxes like these that separate the two girls; like polar opposites, their companionship is an unlikely one. Peyton has cynicism and introverted ness where Brooke has wit, lightheartedness, and passion. Yet they both stare at Lucas with a gaze tainted in just a little bit more than what they say their stares contain – or at least Peyton does. Brooke feels like she's been totally up-front concerning her feelings for _the other Scott brother_ or, as Nathan always preferred, _he who shall not be named_.

Brooke knows that despite what Peyton says, she will always have a place in her heart for Lucas and to be honest, Brooke is scared. No boy has ever made her _feel_. Brooke is still confused as to what prompted her to keep from making love to Lucas that night in her car at the lake. The fact that she didn't take the top off of the cookie jar then, when she had so many times before in the past without so much as batting an eye, is enough to befuddle even the most well-versed rocket scientist, not to mention Brooke herself.

But Brooke can't ignore her unease, especially now that things are taking off with Lucas. She's afraid that Peyton will come to Lucas and share her feelings, shedding light on the chemistry that Brooke _knows_ exists between the pair. And she's afraid Lucas will reciprocate. Brooke has always gotten what she wanted with the opposite sex, and has _never_ had to work for it. Hell, she's so used to having boys eating from the palm of her hand like deer to a salt lick that having to work to earn Lucas' affection is almost as far-fetched as her acing the English Literature test she took today.

A roar erupts from the crowd as Nathan Scott scores a perfect three-point shot. Brooke can see Haley in the crowd, cheering with a surprising energy and zest she didn't know Tutor Girl possessed. But whatever, if Tutor Girl's with Nathan now then Brooke's garnered back those double karma points, and only further evidenced the fact that she's brilliant; how Brooke managed to undo the debacle she created between _Naley_ she'll never know but it certainly hadn't been a job for the faint of heart.

Lucas is running right by her now as the time-out whistle is called. He winks at her and nods with a smile on his face. Brooke's happy to see _him_ happy. She knows the hardships he's faced, simply by being born. She likes the way his blue eyes twinkle. It seems like that is a gesture that Lucas doesn't often emulate. She stares at him as he walks away, watching him as he gives Jake Jagielski a clap on the back. And, hell, Lucas sure is pretty to look at, even when he's all sweaty-like.

But when Brooke turns back again, Peyton is staring right at her, suspicion evident on the blonde girl's face

* * *

"What was that wink about?" Peyton inquires as she guides her car out of the school parking lot. Some local punk group is blaring out of her speakers and for once Brooke doesn't mind the cacophony. She'd rather avoid this topic and listen to her friend's strange taste in music.

"That's a good question," Brooke smiles, the cool night breeze blowing strands of her hair away from her face. "I guess we just kind of talked when you were, you know, comatose."

"Ok." Peyton responds softly thus precipitating an awkward silence that lingers in the air like a distasteful odor. She's grasping the wheel in a death grip and her speedometer is rising quickly. Brooke hates how Peyton loses control when she's deep in thought, especially when she's driving.

"Peyton!" Brooke yells as the car ascends the fifty mile per hour mark. "Easy there, _Tonto_!"

Peyton eases off the accelerator, slowly regaining her composure.

"You back from your lunar orbit, space cadet?" Brooke asks slyly as her friend turns down another road.

"There's just a lot of stuff on my mind right now." She pauses. "I mean, I don't even understand this anymore."

"Understand what, Peyton?" Brooke inquires, praying her friend doesn't say Lucas.

But, because God hates her: "Understand Lucas! Or myself... I mean, why am I so afraid? Why did I totally freak out the other day at the Scotts when I had my chance?" She pauses, licking her dry lips. "I mean, he's what I wanted – right?"

Brooke's heart breaks and a part of her wants to tell Peyton right there that she's been with him. "Because you're a pansy. Now, get us to Nathan's. We're two very sexy ladies that _need _to do some damage," Brooke quips with that token smile on her face.

Peyton nods, a half-grin spreading across her cheek. "Whatever you say. But, I'm definitely not drinking tonight."

Brooke forces a chuckle as she stares out the side of the car, a solitary tear falling down her cheek.

* * *

Lucas is sitting on the couch, watching the game they just won on Lucas' plasma TV. He can't believe he's here after all of the shit he's put up with at his half-brother's past parties. He told himself his attendance is to support Haley, to make sure nothing happens, because, let's face it, Lucas hardly approves of their union. And although the "Haley's protection" excuse isn't totally fake, that's only half of the reason he's here. Lucas is also hoping to catch a glimpse of _her_ again.

She walks in with Peyton, out of her uniform and wearing a _very_ sexy ensemble. In fact, both Peyton and Brooke look stunning, which just tends to complicate things for Lucas. Brooke smiles at him, and he smiles back. Then Peyton looks towards him; he can sense her disposition as she nods towards a more secluded room. She wants to talk.

He nods and follows her in the back. Brooke sighs heavily as he passes her and places a soft hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Peyton says she's worried about them, that it feels strange whenever they talk. She wants to make sure he's ok, and even go so far as to thank him again for helping her. He's been so good these past couple of weeks and his support was just what she needed. She was so lucky to have him and Brooke there for her. The last thing she wants is for things to be _complicated_. Lucas has too much heart to tell Peyton Sawyer that things will pretty much _always_ be complicated from here on out.

Now that he's dodged the bullet though, he's enjoying his survival. Lucas dips his feet into Nathan's pool and sits there, staring at the ripples on the surface of the water. It's late now, almost half-past midnight. Most everyone has gone home, and he's the only one by the pool. The floodlights illuminate the well-furnished backyard, casting a soft glow throughout the vicinity. It's soothing just to listen to the croaking of the frogs somewhere off in the grass and watch the stars high up in the dark sky.

He hears the door close softly and turns. Brooke slowly makes her way towards him, like a lioness to a wounded zebra; he's not completely surprised by the fact that she's got booze in her hand, and Lucas is certainly enjoying the dazzling red bikini number she's sporting; he can hardly keep himself from groveling at her beautifully-toned body.

She sits beside him, following his example by gently sliding her legs into the blue liquid too. She takes a sip from the cup and places it on the side of the pool. The silence seems to last for a long time as Lucas concentrates on his big toe.

"Brooke." He speaks quietly, her name sounding so sweet upon his lips. "Is this for real?" Her face turns to him, her brow creased in confusion, that playful half-smirk present. As if to clarify, he continues. "I mean, am I just another one of your lays? Because that's not what I wanna be."

"Oh, _this _question…" She nods, as if in understanding, almost like she's been expecting the question, and stares back at the water. "Contrary to popular belief, gorgeous, sex and alcohol are not my only hobbies." She has a soft smile on her lips as she turns to him again, staring into his deep blue eyes. The light from the bushes enhances them, making them seem more powerful and intense, unwavering.

She bites her lip and speaks softly. Brooke isn't good at talking like this, all serious-like, but he makes it easier than normal. She finds that putting words to her feelings isn't completely difficult when she's talking to him. "You're the only guy I've ever wanted anything from."

"Anything besides sex, you mean?" Lucas grins, jokingly.

She playfully punches his shoulder, and then his arms are wrapped around her. He leans his head in, his nose touching hers. She can feel his breath upon her face as his hand strokes her cheek softly. "You're all I've ever really wanted, Lucas… From the first moment I saw you. I realized that the other night." She pauses, taking a drink. "With Peyton."

"Oh yes. _Peyton_." Lucas looks away, hoping to sidestep the obvious elephant in the backyard.

"Unfortunately though, I don't wanna talk about her right now," Brooke responds with authority as she sets her drink down, getting on to business. Her lips are upon his in an instant, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close. And then they're submerged in water, dancing under the surface of Nathan's pool, sending soft waves gliding about in their movement. She breathes for him, as he does for her.

When they come up for air, her legs are wrapped around him and he's up against the wall of the pool. His eyes are blazing with desire, like burning ice. His hands comb through her wet hair and her scent is of roses. It's the best damn aroma he's ever smelt.

Their bodies grind against each other like a dance, their kisses no longer soft, but furious, fueled on by a burning passion and unquenchable ecstasy. All is dark except for the gentle gleam from the floodlight out amongst the flower beds but their vision is obscured by a fiery crimson.

"I need you, Lucas," Brooke whispers softly in his ear, her voice heavy with desire.

"Brooke…" He doesn't get the chance to tell her just how much he wants to stay in this moment forever, because the door quickly bursts open and they are covered in light from Nathan's house. Peyton Sawyer stands in the doorway.

"Lucas?" She is shocked, and both Brooke and he can see it from her expression. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." She turns to walk into the house, her golden curls whipping about her head as she turns.

"Peyton!" Lucas calls desperately, begging her not to leave like this. He lets go of Brooke reluctantly, and, as she predicted, her heart breaks in two. He stands when he gets out of the pool and turns to Brooke. She's holding against the edge of the pool where he was only moments before, too stunned to say anything. She feels stupid, embarrassed, and more like a slut than she's ever felt before. Somehow this pain hurts more than any gunshot, any stab, and any other physical wound. She wants to crawl away and cry for eternity, or at least until she doesn't have the energy to cry anymore. But she doesn't.

Rising from the pool, she walks past Lucas and grabs a towel. She breaks into a run as she screams after Peyton.

And all Lucas can do is watch.


	4. Tribulation

Brooke avoids Lucas' eyes as she hurries past him and stares at the ground as she silently follows Peyton inside. She can't help but loathe the girl right now-Peyton's ruined everything Brooke has worked for and established. And the real kicker was that Peyton swore to Brooke that she and Lucas had a strictly platonic relationship: he was "fair game". So she has no legitimate reason to be bitching like this.  
  
What also confuses Brooke is why she is willing to fight for Lucas. Normally she would have gotten her play and moved on to the next person on her list-because there is always a list. But for the first time in Brooke Davis' life, she's happy just being with Lucas.  
  
The house is empty now as Brooke strides along the hardwood floors. She has no idea where Nathan's parents are; Deb is probably at Karen's Café and Mr. Scott had most likely arranged some agreement for the leasing of the house in return for, perhaps, an eon of intense and strenuous workouts from his son.  
  
Brooke stares through the giant window adjacent to the Scotts' front door, staring out into their driveway and front lot-Nathan and Haley are out walking hand-in-hand. She studies the pair with bitterness. What did Nathan do exactly that garnered him so much happiness? Sure, Brooke wasn't exactly Mother Theresa herself but, come on-the name Nathan Scott is synonymous with cruelty and arrogance.  
  
Brooke rounds a corner and enters the kitchen. Peyton is standing at the bar, a beer in her hand. She takes a heavy swig then looks at her friend. Her eyes are a cold blue and, although the blonde is trying her best to hide it, incriminating. Brooke feels cheep under her stare.  
  
"Peyton."  
  
The blonde seems to awaken now, as if Brooke's presence is now finally being noted. Brooke reminds herself that she did nothing wrong, and had Peyton really liked Lucas, Brooke would have been more than happy to step aside.  
  
Ok, maybe she wouldn't step aside but she would have been a lot more liberal in her advances on the boy.  
  
"You could have told me you were with him, Brooke," Peyton declares quietly as she takes a sip from the plastic cup.  
  
Brooke really doesn't want to have this conversation. She suddenly realizes how cold the room is standing there wet in her skimpy red two- piece. She pulls the towel tighter around herself.  
  
"Oh Peyton, come on," Brooke says rolling her eyes. "It's really not that big of a deal."  
  
"Oh, it never is to you Brooke. The only thing that ever concerns you is a lack of both beer and boys!" She's yelling now and all Brooke can do is stand there and take it. "Lucas is different and -" she pauses, as if searching for the right words to say. "-I can't believe I'm just going to sit back and watch you play him like this."  
  
Brooke stares wide-eyed at her, utterly and completely dumbfounded; for once, she's at a loss for words. "I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this." She stops too, staring at Peyton Sawyer. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want happiness and security too?"  
  
"Oh please Brooke-that's a crock of shit and you know it. Your idea of happiness is a nice lay with some bourbon on the side!"  
  
So the truth is out now. Everyone including her best friend is under the impression that Brooke Davis is nothing more than a cheap slut. "I guess it's good that you got that off your chest," Brooke says quietly, staring at Peyton, studying the blue hues in her irises.  
  
She walks to the icebox and pulls out a Bud. She holds it up towards Peyton, nodding towards the bottle. "Does this make you happy? I hope this just helps to confirm what you obviously knew all along." She rips the cap off and chugs it, the cold liquid burning as it cascades down her throat.  
  
She slams the half-empty glass on the countertop then turns back to her friend, who's staring at her in confusion. Damn, Brooke needed that. "Let me tell you this Peyton. I may not be perfect. In fact, I know I'm not perfect. But I have been good to you. You can't say that I haven't been there for you," Brooke declares in a quiet hush. Her eyes are watering, but she continues. "You know that if you told me you had feelings for Lucas Scott I - I wouldn't have been in the situation I was in outside."  
  
"Brooke, I know-" Peyton tries to speak but Brooke interrupts her.  
  
"No, you don't. People can change Peyton." Peyton is looking at the floor, and then her head rises and meets Brooke's unwavering stare with an equal tenacity. "I like Lucas, Peyton. But I guess you've won two battles here."  
  
"Brooke, what the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about how you've established that I'm a filthy whore." Peyton looks away, ashamed. She's about to cry.  
  
Good, Brooke thinks. Feel my pain.  
  
"And you've also shown just how much more Lucas likes you than he does me."  
  
Peyton has tears streaming down her cheeks when she looks back to Brooke. "You know none of that's true, Brooke."  
  
"He would have never gotten out of that pool if I had been the one doing the walking-in on."  
  
"Brooke," Peyton whispers quietly, her voice choked with emotion. "I shouldn't have said all that crap, I'm so sorry-".  
  
"-No Peyton, you're right. This is the first time I've ever lost anything I really cared for, but I guess I kind of had it coming, huh?"  
  
Brooke spins around on her bare heel and walks out the door of the kitchen, the towel tightly held about her shivering body. She's shaking more from the incidents moments before than anything related to temperature.  
  
Her bag full of a fresh change of clothes is on the steps leading to the second story and she hefts it. All Brooke wants right now is to be alone at home-something she's never done before on a Friday night.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Lucas is sitting in the swings in front of the monstrous household owned by Mr. Dan Scott. He's barefoot and bare-chested, but the night air is warm; besides, he's too lost in thought to notice.  
  
He still feels the sparks, and he's still light-headed. Brooke's kiss was explosive and electric and he felt like he ignited when her lips brushed his. He never wanted it to end-but it did. It seems that their relationship only brought hardship but he doesn't want it to end. Not yet, not now, and not under these circumstances.  
  
He tried to follow her inside, to catch her and tell her to stop, but when he proceeded inside, he heard her and Peyton going at it and he knew that was not where he wanted to be.  
  
Peyton.  
  
"Lucas."  
  
He's ripped from his thoughts by the same girl that was occupying them. He turns in the swing and sees Peyton Sawyer walking carefully down the concrete walkway. She stands beside him: her forehead is creased in worry and he can tell she's uncomfortable.  
  
But she couldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as he is right now.  
  
"Mind if I--?" Peyton asks, pointing towards the seat next to him.  
  
"Go ahead," Lucas replies, trying his hardest to plaster a reassuring smile across his face-but, alas, he fails miserably. "How's Brooke?"  
  
"I don't know. I-I said some things to her that I really regret, but I was so angry."  
  
Lucas looks at her inquiringly, his eyebrow raised. As if in response, she clears her throat.  
  
"Lucas, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm just like you-I want you and I want us. I was just so stupid and I didn't notice what was standing right there in front of me," Peyton softly whispers in the darkness; he can tell she's been crying, as there are mascara marks down her cheeks that he can see even through this masking blackness surrounding them.  
  
He looks up to the sea of perpetual ebony and locates Orion in the sky. A star dances across the heavens then winks out of view.  
  
"Peyton, I don't know what to say to that," Lucas truthfully states.  
  
"You know what I want you to say." Peyton smiles at him gently as she sways forwards and back in her swing, her feet dragging across the grass.  
  
Lucas rises from the swaying apparatus and pulls Peyton to her feet in front of him. He presses his lips to hers. He waits for that familiar feeling he's grown accustomed to-that explosion, that spark, that ignition, that electricity flowing through his veins; he wants to feel like he's flying, like he could dance across the clouds forever, or run a thousand miles.  
  
But he doesn't feel it-it never comes.  
  
And he knows what he has to do.  
  
He softly pulls away and places his hand on Peyton's shoulder. His face is sad and then so is hers. "Peyton, I wish you had felt this way back when I felt this way too."  
  
She nods, and then smiles. She's obviously better at conjuring those up then Lucas is. "I get it. Well, you go get her Lucas. Because I know she wants you. And I think she's genuine."  
  
Peyton caresses his cheek then smiles again to herself. She turns around and walks back through the grass. Her car is parked in the driveway and she opens the door. As if remembering something, she turns her head and looks back to Lucas.  
  
"I guess you'll be bringing her home then? I doubt I'm her favorite person at the moment." She's grinning now and Lucas knows he hasn't made a mistake.  
  
"I guess so." He stops, then clears his throat, as if remember to ask her something. "Hey Peyton, hold up!"  
  
She stops and looks back up as she gets into her vehicle. "Yea?"  
  
"Thank you," he answers.  
  
She shakes her head, blonde curls bobbing about her face. "No Lucas, thank you."  
  
He watches her drive off, speeding as usual. He turns back to the household. He hears Haley and Nathan off in the distance and that familiar jealousy doesn't come back. In fact, he almost feels happy for Hales because he knows that, out of anyone here, she deserves happiness the most.  
  
He steps one foot inside, the hardwood cold against his sole. Lucas closes the door behind him and strides inside.  
  
"Brooke?" he calls, poking his head in and out of rooms.  
  
He hears a door open somewhere and walks in the direction of the noise.  
  
Brooke comes striding quickly through the living room, digging frantically through her purse for her cell phone. Her makeup is smeared, and it appears she's been crying too.  
  
She looks up and watches him stand there. Her face is sad, her beautiful green eyes devoid of the sparkle that he always sees dancing mischievously in them. He hates to see her like this, and all he wants to do is love the pain out of her.  
  
"Lucas, I am so sorry about everything that happened. I was crazy to think that you would ever-" She stops as his hand cups her chin and lifts it towards his face.  
  
"-To think that I would ever want to be with you? Brooke, there's a side to you that few people see. Yet, you've been kind enough to show it to me. And I love it." Her hand closes over his, holding it against her cheek. Her jade eyes seem to brighten and he sees them dance again as he heals her, revitalizes her.  
  
"All that I want, Brooke, is to be with you tonight." He kisses her then, and she wraps her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with an astounding fervor and passion.  
  
They release each other and she grins at him, that same beautiful grin that sends him spiraling into a sea of perpetual epiphany and bliss, the dimpled cheek that makes him go weak in the knees.  
  
"Well this evening has been a bucket full of surprises," she states in that low, sexy murmur of hers, kissing him again as her fingers caress the nape of his neck.  
  
"Come on," Lucas proposes. "Let's go somewhere else."  
  
Brooke just nods and takes his hand, their fingers intertwining. 


	5. Confessions

Lucas and Brooke are giggling incessantly as they make their way up Brooke's dimly-lit concrete walkway. They step onto her porch and he pins her up against the giant mahogany doors. He wipes a way-ward strand of her auburn hair away from her face and tucks it neatly behind her ear.  
  
Her hands grasp his face gently and pull his lips to hers. She kisses him fiercely then softly pulls away, her eyes ablaze with friskiness.  
  
"Who would have thought that Lucas Scott was such a proficient kisser?" Brooke giggles, tapping his chest with her index finger. "But then again, all that stored-up emotion hidden by your broodiness had to be put to some use, right big boy?" As if to reinstate his obvious skill, Lucas plants a big smack on her cheek as she turns to unlock the door. Her dad is still out on business and her mom is too busy exfoliating herself while she sleeps to notice Brooke coming in.  
  
Regardless, Brooke leads Luke inside, her noisy pair of heels in hand. She puts a finger to her lips and nods towards her parents' expansive bedroom. Lucas is so dumbfounded at how large Brooke's home is. It's equally the size of Nathan's.  
  
Brooke leads him through the darkness up the stairs then around the corner to her room. She turns on the light then pushes him onto her bed. She kicks the door shut then dives on top of him, covering him in expertly displaced kisses.  
  
She travels down the side of his neck towards his pectoral, ripping open his shirt. Lucas stares above the bed to the high ceiling and laughs aloud when he notices Brooke's immaculately placed mirror above.  
  
"Well that's a surprise," Luke laughs softly and sarcastically.  
  
Brooke gazes upward then shrugs. "I'm out of that phase-Well, almost."  
  
She returns to his face and runs her hands through his tresses as she kisses him with earnestness. He loves the way she kisses-she takes the lead and he follows. She kisses with zeal and zest, her body rocking against him as she moves. It's almost like a dance-a powerfully erotic dance.  
  
He's out of breath as she nibbles at his lower lip, her fingers running along his collarbone. Her touch is like a lightning bolt, eliciting sparks as her hands glide across his body. Lucas leans his head back against her big, pink, fluffy pillow and she kisses his Adam's apple.  
  
They roll about for a while on the bed, their passion paramount; and then, when they're all spent, he holds her.  
  
"God Brooke, you're amazing." "All in a day's work, baby," Brooke grins as she rests her head on her hands, which she has planted on his bare chest.  
  
"I'm glad I was wrong about you," Lucas smiles softly as he rubs her cheek then runs a strand of her dark hair between his fingers.  
  
Brooke taps her cheek as she tries to seem as introspective as possible. "A bad girl with a good side-the fact that I'm a good lover doesn't hurt either, does it Mr. Scott?" she giggles as she looks back at him.  
  
"You're a very bad girl-with an even better good side," Lucas smiles. "But, no, the fact that you're a very, very good lover doesn't hurt."  
  
"There's always something you don't know about another person," Brooke says tenderly, playing with his navel. "What about you, Lucas?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"You're just so perfect-you're like the little golden boy. There has to be some kind of glaring flaw that you have hidden away somewhere." She pauses, as if in pondering. "I've got it! You only have one testicle!" she exclaims, cupping his crotch through his pants.  
  
Lucas laughs and kisses her. "No, but you almost got it-I have three." He tries to keep a straight face but starts laughing again; Brooke joins him as she hefts herself off of his stomach and lies beside him.  
  
"Seriously-what's wrong with you? Tell me all your secrets, Goldy."  
  
"Secrets-I don't really have secrets, but if you must know-" He pauses, keeping her in suspense. "I secretly love chick flicks, I'm unbearably ticklish, and-" He paused, as if he was trying to drop the subject.  
  
"And what?" Brooke asks persistently.  
  
"Nothing," Lucas smiles.  
  
"Oh you're telling me, baby-you already admitted that you were ticklish, so I'll just use that to my advantage!" Brooke digs her fingers into his sides and sends Lucas into a laughing hysteria like a little girl.  
  
She thinks it's adorable.  
  
"OK! OK!" Lucas laughs. Brooke stops, a large smile on her face, as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Lucas clears his throat and gazes deeply into her eyes. His tone is serious, and Brooke's whole mood changes. He holds her close to him as he opens his mouth.  
  
"I'm a virgin."  
  
Brooke is speechless. She was almost positive that Lucas was, in fact, not a virgin. I mean, come on, the guy is gorgeous.  
  
"Wow-I just assumed that you weren't. Damn boy! You're really, really good for a first-timer."  
  
"I'm very flattered," Lucas whispers, running his index finger along her lips.  
  
"That's not even a flaw, Lucas," Brooke communicates softly. "That just makes you even more special."  
  
Brooke feels butterflies in her stomach. Her whole outlook on Lucas has changed now that he's admitted to his purity. She has feelings stirring inside her that she's definitely never felt before, and, no, it's not those tacos she had for lunch today.  
  
She realizes that Peyton is right; Lucas has so much more to offer than a mere one-night-stand relationship. And, although Brooke would never vocally admit it, she wants what he's willing to give. She wants seriousness and she wants this security. And she wants it all with Lucas.  
  
She kisses him softly, her hand on his cheek. "Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are, Goldy?"  
  
He murmurs softly against her hair as she does something that neither one of them would have predicted her to do.  
  
Brooke rolls over and wraps his arm about her, pulling her matching pink covers tightly over the pair. She kisses his hand as it comes to rest on her bare stomach. She'll sleep in her shorts and bra tonight as opposed to, well, nudity.  
  
Brooke Davis wants to cry tears of happiness because she feels that she's found something in Lucas. She's discovered something wondrous and stupefying in him and she's learned that things like these you can't allow to slip through the cracks.  
  
Brooke holds him tightly around her as he murmurs delicately against her soft shoulder.  
  
"Goodnight Brooke."  
  
"Night Lucas." Brooke smiles to herself-she may not have had sex tonight, but she's made love--made love in the most sublime way possible. 


	6. Freedom

Lucas walks through the hallways with an impending sense of nervousness. He feels like all eyes are on him, and doesn't even want to think about Peyton. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to conjecture that their relationship is going to be very rocky and uncomfortable. He gulps and embraces the new day.  
  
His fingers meet the hard plastic of the dial on his cold, metal locker. He turns the plastic, studying the numbers. He realizes just how complicated things are-as if for the first time. Lucas feels liberated however, after having been with Brooke. He feels stable knowing that Peyton is aware of everything. He knows he shouldn't feel guilty, that she had her chance, and that he isn't at fault for anything.  
  
But he does.  
  
His locker lurches open as Haley James walks up, her bright smile displayed proudly on her face. "Hey Luke!" she smiles confidently. Right now, Lucas envies her confidence.  
  
"Hey Hales. How's everything?"  
  
"I'm great. Lucas, is something wrong? You left the party without even talking to me. . ."  
  
Lucas looks to her and smiles his reassuring gleam. "No, I'm great. Really."  
  
Haley notices a light in his eyes, something he's never had before. "I believe you. Lucas-you deserve this happiness. You're one of the greatest people I know."  
  
"Thanks Haley. I really, really appreciate that," Lucas says as he simultaneously pulls out his American History book.  
  
"I've got to give Brooke props too-I've never seen you with that little jig in your step before. Whatever she's doing to you, I think it's good."  
  
Lucas chuckles to himself. "Yea, I guess I was pretty stupid to assume that me and her would be kept on the down low."  
  
"Don't worry about it Lucas," Haley declares, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You were supportive of me being with Nathan even though it took a little while-due to extenuating circumstances," she laughs softly. "I don't think this should be any different."  
  
Lucas smiles at her. "It really means a lot to hear that, because I probably won't hear the end of what did and what didn't happen between me and Brooke at Nathan's party."  
  
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't be being fair if I acted any other way," Haley speaks as she nods down the hall. Nathan is coming and he smiles at Haley in a way only he can do.  
  
"Go ahead," Lucas grins. He ruffles Haley's hair and she walks towards Nathan. He clasps her hand and they walk down the hall together towards the Tutoring Center.  
  
Lucas closes his locker and heads to his first class.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
The bell explodes with an annoying dissonance as Luke is released. He runs into Jake and slaps his hand, as they exchange a few friendly words. Then Lucas finds himself at his locker again, following the same redundant routine that he does on a daily basis. He hurls his history book inside as he feels a pair of hands enter the back pockets of his denim jeans.  
  
"So who's this beautiful girl that Lucas Scott slept with on Saturday night after the game?" a husky, sexy voice whispers into his ear. Luke turns around and embraces Brooke Davis as she reaches up to place a soft peck upon his lips.  
  
"Beats me, but I hear she was pretty damn good."  
  
Brooke giggles as her hands find their familiar place behind his neck. She kisses him again and cocks her head to the side as Lucas speaks.  
  
"So, have you talked to Peyton?" he questions, his eyebrow raised.  
  
"I don't think that would be a very intelligent idea. Falling on past experience here, I've found that we forget a lot easier than we forgive."  
  
"Whatever works-But hey, I have to get to math-"  
  
"I don't think so," Brooke smiles slyly. "All that I've been thinking about today is you and you're definitely not getting away that easily!" Brooke pulls Lucas by the collar and quickly throws him inside the nearest janitor's closet.  
  
Quickly pulling the door closed behind her and pressing the lock in place, she approaches him slowly. They are surrounded by darkness, and she only has her hands to guide her. Reaching out, her hands find the thin chain which dangles from above. She gives it a tug, but Lucas intercepts.  
  
"No, leave it off."  
  
"Oh-kinky. I like it," Brooke laughs softly. Her hands find his body and travel down below his pant-line. "Just you and me, baby."  
  
Lucas snickers as he pulls her close to him. He would have never thought to be doing anything like this, especially at school, but Brooke makes it easy. She gives him the strength and the audacity to do things he could never normally be conceivably doing. He is able to be a daredevil, to actually enjoy life.  
  
Their bodies rock against each other, their fingers exploring each other's skin against the heavy cloak of darkness. He loves the way he feels when she touches him-the hair all over his body stands on end; she's like a light breeze, barely swooshing by, yet leaving a heavy imprint behind. He can almost feel the heat from their passion rising within the tiny, confined space as he pulls Brooke's halter-top over her head.  
  
He stares at her in her red bra and matching thong panties, his hand traveling down the arch of her back. It comes to rest on the small of her back as his other quests to her cheek. Her own well-manicured hands are grasping his shoulders.  
  
He can tell that she's ready for it-ready to actually consummate their relationship and make love.  
  
"Brooke-I'm not so sure-"Lucas whispers softly, his breathe causing gooseflesh to ripple across her skin.  
  
She smiles at him, astounded by his morality. He never ceases to amaze her as he holds her there in his arms. No other guy had ever asked to stop, abstained from having sex with her. She knows that this isn't an insult to her-Lucas Scott is just a good guy.  
  
"It's ok, we don't have to," she replies as she runs a hand through his hair.  
  
"No, I want to. I really do. Just, not here-," Lucas explains, his hands leaving her back to motion across the small room. "I just don't want to remember losing it in a janitor's closet next to a mop."  
  
Brooke giggles softly. "I totally get it. Well, if you're sure, we can go somewhere else."  
  
"Like, leave the school?"  
  
"Well, yea! Come on, you're a big, brave boy. Be a rebel-I like that in a man."  
  
"Ok-I guess Whitey won't mind if I skip one practice. Where do you wanna go to-you know. . . do it?"  
  
"Wow Goldy, you're really cute. Let's just cross that bridge when we get to it-now where exactly did my pants run off to?"  
  
As she scurries about on the floor, the lock clicks and the door handle turns.  
  
"Shit!" Lucas and Brooke state at the same time. Lucas picks up a thermal blanket hidden back in the closet and as the door opens, he quickly hurls it on the unsuspecting janitor. The poor old man falls to the ground, wrapped in the cotton net and Brooke, in all her partially-naked glory, carefully steps over him. She has her clothes in her hands and runs, awkwardly, with one high-heeled shoe on. The other falls from her grasp onto the floor.  
  
Lucas quickly snatches it up and runs, barefoot and in his wifebeater and boxers, behind Brooke. They're both guffawing-luckily the hallways are partially empty except for the handful of students walking tardy to their classes. They're in for a great helping of eye candy as Brooke Davis rushes past clad only in her crimson-red brassiere and matching thong underwear with her boy-toy in tow.  
  
The scant few students point, some laugh, the males stare wide-eyed. However, despite cursing words from the now-standing janitor, the pair burst through the doors and run down the sidewalk towards the student parking lot. Brooke reaches her car and turns around to laugh hysterically.  
  
Lucas joins her next to her car as the pair catches their breath despite the humor of the incident. After they're in a regular state, they hop into Brooke's Beetle and she starts the engine.  
  
"We are going to be so busted," Lucas chortles as he slaps his knee.  
  
Brooke puts the car in reverse and backs out, then drives off towards the exit of the parking lot. "But it is going to be so worth it. We're going to the beach."  
  
"You have got to be kidding," Lucas gasps. "That's like three hours away."  
  
"Did we forget our little conversation in that lovely closet? The whole rebel thing? Besides, I spent a fortune on the other bikini that I didn't wear to Nathan's party and you know I have to show it off."  
  
"Whatever," Lucas stares wide-eyed at Brooke. Although his better judgement tells him not to follow through with this plan, his instincts tell him to go for it. He admires Brooke for her driven, ferocious personality. She knows what she wants, and she gets it. Like how she wanted him, and how she wants to go the beach. And they will go to the beach, and, as he looks around, she also has him.  
  
"We'll go to my house-pick up the stuff. You can wear one of my dad's speedos," Brooke laughs. Lucas softly punches her shoulder, laughing all the while. "Just kidding! I'm sure he has an extra pair of trunks somewhere. God, I'm so brilliant!"  
  
"That's exactly what you are-brilliant and beautiful," Lucas smirks, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Brooke looks away from the road and stares at him admiringly.  
  
"Besides, nothing beats sex on the beach," she says softly.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
As Brooke predicted, her parents are gone-her dad is at work and her mother is at lunch. As usual, however, they didn't forget her cash.  
  
She looks stunning in her leopard-print two-piece. She throws a large tee- shirt over herself and grabs her thong sandals. Lucas has on his wifebeater and Mr. Davis' swim trunks. They're a little large, but they'll have to do.  
  
They hop in the car and depart towards the coast. The car speeds down the open road-no one is headed to the beach at 10 in the morning.  
  
Luke runs a hand through her dark hair. Suddenly, he feels the wind blowing through his own short locks as Brooke's sunroof opens. She looks at him, mischief plain on her face as she rises in her seat. Her hands release from the wheel as she pulls herself out to stand, her upper body protruding from the sunroof.  
  
"Shit Brooke!" Lucas cackles as he takes control of the wheel. Brooke is whooping and screaming as the wind blows through her hair, sending it whipping about her face as Lucas steers below her.  
  
Lucas loves seeing her like this-she's like a tigress: feral, untamed, independent. He marvels at her beauty and her grace, and her tenacity. He longs for the freedom she has as she stands there without a care in the world.  
  
She's his tigress-his nonchalant and free Brooke Davis. Their car continues its journey to the sun. 


	7. Bliss

Again -- I would say thank you once but I don't think that that would be enough to convey just how appreciative I am of all the wonderful reviews. We do this for you guys and to know that our work is enjoyed is truly the cream of the crop, so thanks a million!  
  
This is where it gets serious! Brooke and Lucas on a road trip! Woo-hoo! I want to give special thanks to my dear friend TOMMYGIRL0222, for, without her, this story would be half the story that it turned out to be.  
  
That's enough rambling, on to the next installment!  
  
Bliss **************************************************************************** ****************  
  
Lucas stares intently at the map, his fingers tracing the multi-colored lines crisscrossing across the paper. To Brooke they appear to be nothing more than a jumble of symbols and hieroglyphics, an undecipherable foreign language; but to Lucas, they are the key to their journey, the map leading to their hidden treasure. He understands it clearly as he calls out where to turn.  
  
They've missed the exit twice now, primarily because Brooke has little-to no experience traveling this far outside of Tree Hill. Yet, they've reached the coast successfully-the air is saltier, the sky bluer, and the breeze softer. He looks at Brooke as she stares intently at the road ahead as the wind gently sends single strands of her hair gliding across her face. Her entrancing green eyes are obscured by her expensive sunglasses- they probably cost more than Lucas' whole outfit, minus her father's swimming trunks.  
  
He points to the feeder road to the left, indicating for her to exit. "There, get off there."  
  
"I'll try, but I can't make any promises," Brooke speaks nervously as she glances over her shoulder and switches lanes. The small Beetle swerves its way off of the road onto the access road, heading towards the beach. Sighing in relief, she pulls her sunglasses off and drops them in a cup holder.  
  
"See, this is so much better than any basketball practice!" Right after she says it, she quickly presses a button and the power windows ignite, closing the sunroof. She stares up at the sky repeatedly, as if watching for something.  
  
"What's wrong, Brooke? Is God finally getting ready to smite you with holy fire from above for your sins or something?" Lucas laughs.  
  
"No, it was one of those damn birds," she replies in a concentrated whisper.  
  
"What-a seagull?" She nods, her eyes never leaving the closed sunroof.  
  
"Dude, it's just a bird. Did it like rape you or something?" When Brooke doesn't respond, Lucas starts laughing.  
  
"No, you retard. I just don't want to get pooped on. Whenever we come to beach, someone gets shat on and I refuse to allow it to be me. So I hope you brought some shampoo because I appeased the gods with Nathan and Haley," she smiles sweetly at Lucas as she turns into a small parking lot bordering the beach.  
  
Brooke parks the car-the lot is all but abandoned as its noon on a school day and the air is a bit chillier than most other summer days. The pair hops out of the car and Brooke pulls out the large picnic basket that they prepared, full of enough food to last for the afternoon.  
  
Brooke puts her sunglasses on and runs down the sandy path to the shore below. She turns around to smile at Lucas and wave. "Hurry up!" she yells, but Lucas is too busy staring at the small team of seagulls heading Brooke's away.  
  
He could have yelled back, warning her of her impending doom, but he just let the hilarity of the situation take control. In a matter of seconds, Brooke is dive-bombed by a flurry of creamy white matter. Lucas collapses on the ground in hysterics, rolling about, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as Brooke just stands there as the reality of her predicament sinks in.  
  
"Well, this is just dandy. Just goddamn dandy. LUCAS!!!" Brooke shrieks at the top of her lungs. Her arms are outstretched to either side as she tries to slosh the crap off of her shirt. "Oh my God, my new suit!!!"  
  
Lucas is laughing even harder as he approaches her. He points and tries to say something, but the humor overtakes him and he has to crouch to remain breathing. She is a site to see, covered almost completely in white. The flock has disappeared from view, little more than a speck in the distance.  
  
"Oh, so you find this humorous. You think this is funny?" She runs forward, her arms outstretched, preparing to embrace him in a very poopy hug.  
  
"Yea, um, I don't think so," Lucas replies, suddenly now able to maintain his composure. That doesn't stop Brooke as she continues her advance with haste. Lucas turns and runs towards the water with her on his heels.  
  
He's enveloped in a cascade of cool, salty water as he enters the perpetual blue. It washes over his head, plastering his wifebeater to his chest, knocking him under. He resurfaces and regains his footing, wiping water away from his face. He can taste the acrid liquid on his tongue, but somehow he doesn't register it. To him it's sweeter than wine with her here.  
  
He is surrounded by another cold blast as the clear, fluid substance bathes him. He grasps her wrists as she attempts to carefully wade in. "Come on, you need to get cleaned up anyway," Lucas smiles dastardly. He hefts her around the waist and hurls her farther into the tide, the splash bursting about them. She comes up for air and throws her head back, wet hair flying about behind her.  
  
Her hand attempts to wipe the dripping mascara from her face and she approaches him seductively; her eyes are alluring and locked on his as her hands ride across his shoulders. Her face changes however, as she laughs equally as vexingly and pulls her still partially-dirty shirt over his head. His face is stuffed in between her cleavage. Her skin smells fresh and minty despite the prominent odor of bird feces. Then he realizes just what exactly is on her shirt and he jumps out from her embrace.  
  
Brooke cackles as she rips her shirt over her head, revealing her perky breasts as they float atop the water. She hurls the wet shirt to the shore, as it washes up onto the sand.  
  
"Well, now that you're clean. . ." Lucas smirks as he swims towards her. She wraps her arms around his neck as he picks her up in his arms. His hold is strong and stable as they mold together, the sun shining down on their wet bodies. Their faces fit together like a jigsaw puzzle as they kiss, their heads bobbing in a beautiful motion together. His fingers caress her wet hair as she bends her head back and he nibbles on her neck and softly kisses in between her boobs.  
  
Her hands hold his head to her breast, his clasping her back as another surge gushes over them. Water plummets down their tight bodies in rivulets as they kiss again, dancing about like dolphins in the surf.  
  
Lucas releases Brooke and swims farther out. He sends a small splash her way, but she avoids it as she submerges. Immediately after, he feels a tug on his ankle and then he's under water too. It's like crystal all around him, and he feels the soft white sand under his feet. She swims towards him, her auburn hair billowing out like a fan behind her as she kicks, propelling herself forward like a mermaid.  
  
She grabs his arms and he pulls her in. Her lips brush his and her tresses surround them as he pulls her in closer, opening his mouth to hers. He guides her face against his with his hand, her legs wrapped about him as they tumble to and fro in the tide. He kisses her neck tenderly and then softly pecks her lips.  
  
They resurface and he holds here there as the water rocks them; she lays her head on his damp shoulder and stares at the clear, sapphire sky. The sun is nestled high in the clouds, its regal glean shining down to Earth below.  
  
The white sand is wet under their feet when they return to the shoreline. The picnic basket and a few towels are spread out on the sandy ground, a patch of grass behind them as they sit and gorge on peanut butter and jelly.  
  
"Breakfast of champions," Lucas grins, peanut butter stuck in his teeth.  
  
"You are such a dork," Brooke laughs as she crawls forward and wraps her hand around the side of his neck. "But a very, very sexy one." She French- kisses him softly, her tongue dealing with the excess peanut butter problem.  
  
"I didn't realize that peanut butter had such an effect on you," Lucas deduces, taking another bite. "What else do you have in there?" he asks.  
  
"Oh, just the usual-some chips, beer, etcetera," she smiles.  
  
"Brooke Davis, always the boozer."  
  
"Oh shut up." Yet, the alcohol remains untouched as she crawls into his arms again. "Well, Mr. Scott, I was under the impression that the combination of you, me, and fun in the sun would lead to a delightful lunch, some delectable foreplay, and then-"  
  
"And then what," Lucas beams smugly.  
  
"I think you know what I'm hinting at, big daddy," Brooke speaks huskily, her fingers walking up the ridge of his abdomen and chest.  
  
Lucas lays his back on the towel beneath him and pulls Brooke down on top of him. Her face is mere inches from his. Her hair falls down into his face as she is supported by her arms and he tucks it behind her ear. He places his hand on her chin, his thumb delicately rubbing her soft cheek.  
  
Suddenly Brooke looks away and returns to a sitting position.  
  
"Brooke, what's wrong?" Lucas inquires, his hand resting on her shoulder. He turns her around to see tears in her eyes.  
  
"Lucas, I'm so sorry."  
  
"What are you sorry for?"  
  
"For pressuring you to do this."  
  
"No-no Brooke, you're not pressuring me at all. I want this-I really, really do, and I want it with you."  
  
"Luke, you're the first guy that I've ever really wanted something more from. I don't know what the hell you're doing to me!" Brooke beams as she swipes at a tear.  
  
"Aw, Brooke." Lucas scrutinizes her, studying her with a passion and sensitivity that he can't convey through words. She rests her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead. "You may be a lot of things, Brooke, but I see something different-something underneath it all. And it's the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen."  
  
"Wow-if possible, I think you've garnered even more brownie points than I've ever distributed to anyone else." She kisses his cheek. "That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."  
  
He reclines against the soft sand again as Brooke drapes the extra towel over the pair. She straddles him as their wet suits land in a heap a few feet away. The sun still blazes far above, drying the dampness from their heaving bodies as their passion erupts like a volcano beneath the blanket.  
  
When it's done, Brooke has collapsed on top of him, her eyes closed as her head rests on his sternum. His breathing is slow and steady, and they just lay there for what seems like hours. She lets him drift off to sleep, her hand tracing his collarbone, his arm wrapped around her protectively.  
  
She studies him as he sleeps-his strong jaw is limp as his mouth hangs open lightly. His eyelids flutter as she shifts, lying beside him as their fingers intertwine. She caresses his cheek with the back of her hand.  
  
Brooke Davis has never adored a man like she does this one.  
  
"I love you, Lucas," she whispers softly as she gently places her head on his shoulder while he slumbers. She stares out at the water, memorizing its easy, graceful movement as it rushes up the shore then is pulled out towards the depths again like a timeless, immaculate dance.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
A Taste of What's to Come-- Lucas and Brooke face the book for ditching school (and indecent exposure!)- -Lucas deals with Keith and has to rely on Brooke and Haley, while Brooke has to decide what's going to become of her friendship with Peyton, especially after things start getting a little crazy around Tree Hill High. 


	8. Homecoming

Brooke Davis' white Volkswagen slowly pulls up Lucas Scott's thin strip of a driveway. The path of concrete is bordered by a neatly-kept array of flowers, she notices. It's a forest of bright hues and pastels-tulips, orchids, magnolias. They all bloom in abundance in his small front lawn, which seems almost meticulously kept. Apparently Karen is a very proficient gardener.  
  
His home is smaller and quaint. There's a prominent porch near his front door with a swing that sways to and fro in the gentle breeze. The building seems homey and inviting. The only indication that a teenager resides within is the 'Ravens Basketball' sign proudly displayed along the shrubbery and rose bushes, beneath a set of wind chimes.  
  
Brooke shifts to park, and then looks over at her companion. They rode home in almost complete silence, the scent of the sea emanating from their bodies. Brooke knows it's because of what they did-what he did. She feels guilty, but she's also honored. To her he is the first man that it has ever meant anything with.  
  
"So. . ." Brooke starts. "Nice place you got here."  
  
Lucas smiles meekly at her. "Yea, my mom just recently got into the whole gardening thing. She's really into all that hands-on stuff. Of course, Keith did help her a little bit."  
  
Brooke grins, studying his gentle blue orbs-they're an ocean of memories, emotions, and feelings. She wants to tap into that, enter the waters of his soul and liberate him. "Your mom sounds like quite a lady."  
  
"Yea, she's great."  
  
"So, speaking of your big-bad uncle-he doesn't appear to be present."  
  
"Nah, Keith won't be home for another hour and a half; it's only four. He closes up at six forty-five."  
  
"That make's sense," Brooke replies. Their conversation drifts away to silence, as Brooke's hand travels to the nape of his neck. "Are you ok, Lucas?"  
  
He can feel the concern in her voice and he's immediately sorry for giving her that impression that he regrets what they did.  
  
"I'm fine. Really," he reassures her. His thumb dances softly across her chin as he brushes a strand of her tresses away from her face. Both of his hands softly caress her cheeks as his lips brush hers.  
  
She lets him kiss her, savoring the moment, memorizing the texture of his beautiful lips as they fastidiously meet hers. He pulls away sensitively, resting his forehead against hers.  
  
"So, you wanna come inside?" he whispers softly, his breath soothing against her face.  
  
"Did you even have to ask?" she replies, with the soft huskiness in her voice.  
  
He leads her up the walk and slides his key into the lock. The door opens and the pair step inside.  
  
His house is like a sanctuary-clean and dimly lit. Lucas softly closes the door, the clink of the lock setting in place seeming to destroy the sanctity of the place. Luke flips a switch and illumination of light flutters across the room.  
  
The house smells like vanilla and peppermint as Brooke follows him into the spacious sitting room. It's easily the largest room in the house, yet very well decorated. Pictures of Lucas and his mother adorn the powder-blue walls.  
  
"Your mom is really pretty," Brooke inputs.  
  
"Thanks, and I agree."  
  
"And who is this delightfully fat and very naked fellow here?" Brooke laughs, studying a photograph of infant Lucas in the bathtub proudly displaying his rubber ducky and everything else God gave him.  
  
"Yea-that was back when I wasn't modest," Lucas smiles as he opens the refrigerator. Brooke comes up behind him and slips her hands around his waist. She kisses the area on his bare back where his shoulder blades meet.  
  
"You're so beautiful," she declares quietly.  
  
"Oh God, Brooke-If you only knew."  
  
Brooke grasps him by the shoulders and pushes him back onto their wooden table. Her hands travel all over his body. She nibbles at his jaw-line, kissing his neck. His are upon her back, playing with the string of her bikini top.  
  
She grinds against his body as she sucks on his upper lip with an experience only Brooke Davis possesses. He can't speak, can barely breathe. All he can do is follow and be guided. The room is ablaze with their ardor and heat when the beeping permeates through the kitchen.  
  
A panting Lucas rises off of the table, looking back to Brooke. "That would be the chicken-pot pie."  
  
"Yum-have sex and eat chicken-pot pie!" Brooke beams as she rises from the table and walks into the adjacent room.  
  
"I need to get some forks," Lucas calls back from the kitchen.  
  
Brooke doesn't respond, just sits on the stool in front of the piano. She was quite the pianist when she was a kid, and wonders if she can revive that aptitude she possessed so long ago. Her well-manicured fingers meet the cool ivory of the keys. Sheet music is in front of her-"Ave Maria".  
  
Always the daredevil, Brooke begins to play. With surprising dexterity, her fingertips move with fervor and speed across the keys. She's doing well, she realizes, as she reaches to turn the page.  
  
"You're pretty good."  
  
Startled, Brooke stops with a bang and turns. "Well-you scared the shit out of me," she laughs.  
  
"Sorry-the chicken-pot pie got a little burnt so we're just going to let it air out for about fifteen minutes."  
  
Brooke gleams. "Lucas, you better hope you never lose that pretty face of yours because apparently your cooking skills are sub par."  
  
Lucas smiles and then looks at the music. "It's like this-" he explains as he starts to play.  
  
Brooke is astonished at once. Although she's a good player, he's exquisite. He takes the piece and makes it his own, his fingers moving across the keys with unmatched speed and precision. His face is fixed in concentration as his eyes move across the thin sheet of paper, studying the notes. His head nods in tune to the music and the pace, his bare foot softly pressed on the pedal.  
  
Brooke's mouth is open in awe when he finishes. "Wow Lucas! That was really, really good. I mean-I didn't even know you could play."  
  
"I didn't know you could either!"  
  
She smiles slyly, her token, sexy half-smirk as she turns to face the piano again. "There's a lot you don't know about me."  
  
Lucas pauses for a little bit, debating over whether or not to ask the next question. "Brooke-how come your parents are never home?"  
  
Brooke stops, caught completely off-guard. She's calculating what she needs to say because, for once, Brooke is completely at a loss for words. "I don't know, Lucas. My dad's always working and my mom is always out with her friends."  
  
"I'm really sorry."  
  
"Don't be. They can do what they want to, and I'll just live my life."  
  
"But you shouldn't have to do that-I mean, that's not fair to you at all."  
  
"It's a small price to pay, really. My parents aren't like yours-your mom I mean."  
  
Lucas stops collecting the music. "Well, if it means anything-I think they've done a pretty bang-up job despite everything."  
  
"A pretty bang-up job at what?"  
  
"At raising a fine daughter. Now come on-I think the food's ready."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
It's six-thirty when he walks her to the door, both of their stomachs full with chicken-pot pipe and Dr. Pepper. The day is gradually drawing to a close with the sun high in the sky.  
  
"Thanks for today," Lucas says to her.  
  
"No problem," she replies back, smiling as her finger traces his collarbone. "I had a very, very good time."  
  
He leans down to kiss her, then, when they're finished, runs a hand through her hair.  
  
"I guess I better get going before Uncle Keith gets home, eh?"  
  
"Yea-I wish you could stay."  
  
"Me too, handsome. But, I'll see you tomorrow." She stands on her tip- toes to kiss his cheek, then whisper in his ear.  
  
"I have a feeling," she says softly, "that we just may get away with our little field trip that we took today."  
  
And in a flash, she's gone, walking slowly to her car. He watches her as she goes, entranced by her beauty, confidence, and mystique. She's definitely different than what he initially surmised. He's probably one of the few that knows her for what she truly is-he's seen this hidden side that she tries to obscure behind her alcohol and sex addiction.  
  
But she's his now.  
  
He waves as she backs out of the driveway and speeds off down the road.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Lucas is upstairs in his room reading 'All The Pretty Horses' by Cormac McCarthy when he hears the door open downstairs.  
  
"LUCAS, GET YOUR SKINNY ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" The bellowing vocals of Keith Scott reverberate through the house and Lucas knows he's in for it.  
  
The hardwood is cold under his bare foot as he descends the steps.  
  
I am so screwed, he thinks to himself, holding the banister in a death grip.  
  
"What's up, Keith?"  
  
"Oh, you know good and well what's up, Lucas. Get over here."  
  
Lucas enters the kitchen where Keith is standing; he entered through the backdoor, with his business information in his duffel bag which he placed on the table-the same table that had supported Brooke and Lucas a mere hour before.  
  
"I got a very disturbing call today from your principal telling me that my nephew Lucas Scott got caught running out of the school without any shoes or shirt on during the middle of third period. Care to indulge me with an explanation?"  
  
Lucas knew he was lost before he started. "Keith, man-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it." Lucas is lying through his teeth; he's glad he did it and he wouldn't turn back time to change it.  
  
"Damn right you shouldn't have! And who's this girl that you were with? Because apparently she was fit to be working at some strip club judging from what she was wearing. What were you two doing?"  
  
"We-"  
  
"No," Keith interjects, "I don't want to know. You had better be thankful. Coach Whitey was less than pleased with your behavior."  
  
"Look, I said I was sorry, Keith-"  
  
"You had better be sorry because for the next month you're butt is staying here-you go to school, go to practice, that is-if Whitey lets you, and then come home. No more seeing this girl, no more social life. After each and every game, you're coming home with me. I don't even know what I'm going to tell your mother. I'm completely dumbfounded-I would have never expected this out of you."  
  
"No, Keith-please don't tell her," Luke exclaims quickly. "Just punish me and be done with it."  
  
Keith stops, fuming. Lucas half-expects him to start exuding smoke form his nose. "You're right, because we both know that if I did tell her, she'd get the first plane back from Florence. Now get up to your room because I really can't even stand the sight of you right now."  
  
Lucas exits the room and rushes up the stairs, closing his bedroom door softly behind him.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
I hope y'all liked it!  
  
Next up-We meet Brooke's parents and see just how they react to their little excursion. Also, Brooke and Peyton reflect on their situation. More from Haley and Nathan as well! Stay tuned! 


	9. Trapped

Brooke carefully steps along the walk up to her front porch. Daddy's Lexus is pulled into the three-car garage, nestled snugly against her mother's brand new, fire engine-red Mazda RX8. She walks slowly into the warm house and can hear the soft hum of the football game most-likely displayed for Daddy's viewing pleasure on their plasma-screen television in the sitting room.  
  
She drops her almost-empty backpack on the hardwood floor and kicks off her shoes. Her mother is speaking heatedly into the cordless telephone in her hand, a Chardonnay in the other. She's a striking woman for a lady going on forty-five, with the same dark-auburn hair and high cheekbones she shares with her equally beautiful daughter. Of course, however, her hair is constantly dyed at the finest salon downtown and her fingernails are always freshly manicured.  
  
Not to mention the makeup - Brooke's mother, Marjorie Davis, was the recipient of Miss Tree Hill almost twenty years before, and went on to place as second runner-up in the Miss North Carolina Beauty Pageant. As such, in her quest for perpetual beauty, Marjorie Davis arises at four in the morning to tease her hair and apply her coating of cosmetics well before anyone else in the household does. Brooke has never seen her mother without her makeup on.  
  
Her father, Alan, is a brilliant trial lawyer and close friend to Dan Scott. His practice is flourishing and he is well into the six figure salary. Lately, however, the only things to occupy his time are his job and catching the latest football game. Brooke's mother couldn't care less - as long as she has the dough to back up all of her narcissistic financial investments and social-status boosting endeavors, she's fine.  
  
"Brooke, darling!" Marjorie Davis chirps shrilly through the somber atmosphere of the Davis residence. A beep resonates as Mrs. Davis places the phone in its cradle to charge up after the exhausting conversation that took place minutes before.  
  
Brooke rolls her eyes, one foot poised in midair in an attempt to ascend the spiraling staircase to the sanctity of her room above. She stops, takes a deep breath then turns around, a stunning smile spreading across her flawless features.  
  
"What's up, Mom?" Brooke asks politely, milking the role as ever-innocent and respectful daughter to its fullest.  
  
"Well, first-off, I thought I told you to never wear that shirt. I hate the way you look in white - you're so pale-complected. . . it just does not suit you," Marjorie smiles sadly.  
  
Brooke can barely stifle a laugh. Oh mother, if you only knew, she wants to say, but she stops herself.  
  
Then, as if what she said was the factual, honest truth, Marjorie continues. Her demeanor changes to a more serious tone as her face crinkles up - or as much as it can what with all the Botox and laser injections and expensive treatments Marjorie utilizes to fight the plague of aging.  
  
"Your father got a call on his cell phone today during a very important meeting; needless to say, he wasn't very pleased."  
  
"Why didn't he call your cell phone?" Brooke interjects before her mother can continue.  
  
"Oh, I was in such a rush this morning that I left it laying out on my vanity - but that's beside the point." She stops, almost in an attempt to catch her breath. "Brooke, were you skipping school again?"  
  
Brooke tries to figure out what to say to spare her the greatest amount of grief. However, she can conjure up nothing because she knows that in a matter of hours her beloved mother will have forgotten about everything.  
  
"Yea, I did."  
  
"Brooke! This is appalling!" Her mother almost looks scary: her eyes are ablaze with fury, yet her face is unmarred. She looks like a frickin' porcelain doll and Brooke just cannot take her seriously. "You have got to start taking things seriously-how do you think this makes your father and I look? I cannot beli-"  
  
Her mother is interrupted as the phone reverberates into a shriek as it begins to ring. Marjorie walks to the telephone planted on the wall and scans the caller ID. She gazes regrettably at her daughter.  
  
"This is Janet, but we are not through, young lady! Get on up to your room and do your school work. I don't want to see you down here until I call for you on the intercom!"  
  
What's new? Brooke thinks. It's just like any other night.  
  
"Hold on Janet, let me grab the cordless. Ok, now, what exactly did Carolyn say to you? Tell me every word - I absolutely cannot believe she's even contemplating divorcing Douglas. My goodness, the whole town knows she'll have to take up that marketing degree she has."  
  
Her mother drones on as she escapes into Brooke's parent's master bedroom. Always the gossip queen, Marjorie Davis shuts the door behind her, but not before Brooke can snatch a peak at the full Neiman Marcus bag that lies on the lush, peach-colored carpeting.  
  
Brooke ignores her mother's command and walks down towards the kitchen. The astringent aroma of her father's cigar permeates through the room like her mother's heavy perfume-a high-dollar Chanel concoction that she bought just to adorn her neck once and never apply again.  
  
"How was work, Daddy?" Brooke asks hesitantly, trying to provoke some intelligent response from her father.  
  
"Hmm.huh? Oh, it was fine, sweetie," he replies in a quick mutter as he leans forward to capture the play-the opposition has just gained twenty- five yards after a QB sack.  
  
Stimulating conversation, Brooke thinks. Does he even remember what she did? That she skipped school and ran out almost naked? That she drove, by herself, all the way to the coast? Does he care that she put almost two hundred and fifty miles on her car? That the money for her gasoline refill will come from his pocket? From the money that he earns? Does he even acknowledge this? Does he have any idea that today, his lovely, innocent daughter made love? And that it wasn't even the first time?  
  
No, he doesn't. But, does he care?  
  
No.  
  
Brooke hopes, wishes, prays that he will punish her. That he will turn in his chair and chastise her-ground her, take away her money, take away her phone, car, or internet, ANYTHING. But this silence kills her. It's him and the television-his affair with the sport. This inclination to ignore his daughter, who is growing away from him with every passing moment, kills her.  
  
But the scariest thing, the most horrible thought running rampantly through Brooke Davis' mind is the question as to whether or not he will miss her when she's gone.  
  
The possibility that he may not is like a dagger to the heart.  
  
But, as usual, Brooke shugs this off, hiding her worry, sadness, and depression by a false veneer-a beautiful smile masking the prominent frown she has hidden away within her inner pool of being.  
  
She turns and walks to the counter and pours herself a scotch. She doesn't try to keep her noise down or go about her underage drinking in silence- this is another one of Brooke's attempts to elicit a semi-thoughtful quirk from her father.  
  
'Brooke, what the hell are you doing with that?' or 'Put that down, young lady' would be more than sufficient. But does she hear any objection like that?  
  
No.  
  
Alan Davis is too captivated by the team's latest touchdown to notice.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Brooke stands in the shower, letting the hot water rinse away everything. This is the only time she lets the tears flow freely as she sobs silently into the water. This cleansing, revitalizing, nourishing water that washes away all of her depression. . . A crappy excuse for a maternal or paternal figure, yes, but it's the only thing she has.  
  
She cries for her mother. She weeps for her father. But, mostly, she mourns for herself. Brooke never denies that she's selfish. But she convinces herself that with all the restraint she practices, she's entitled to succumb to weakness once in a while and her shower is her holy place.  
  
She is lying prostrate against judgment and shivers despite the warmth of the liquid dripping down her toned, naked body. She can feel the oozing of her eye makeup as the blackness from her mascara and eyeliner dribble down her cheeks in a river of tears.  
  
She finally stops-she knows she's better than this. And just like it always is she goes about her duty. Slamming the lever which stops the water, she steps out into her warm bathroom, mist rising in the cool air. She towels off then drapes a rose-tinted terry cloth robe about her shoulders. The towel she wraps around her head in a turban.  
  
The phone on her private line rings, seeming to echo throughout her silent room. She rushes to retrieve it, and manages a quick glance around her room. Various pin-ups of male celebrities are showcased on her wall of men, each beautiful in his own right. Her growing CD collection is neatly organized into a tiered column holder-it's nowhere near as diverse or eclectic as Peyton's, but it's getting there.  
  
Speaking of Peyton-  
  
The phone identifies the caller as 'Sawyer, Peyton'.  
  
Brooke hesitates for a moment, her breath catching in her chest.  
  
She knows she'll have to face up to this sooner or later, so she presses the talk button.  
  
"Peyton?" Brooke speaks hoarsely.  
  
"Brooke-I feel really bad about how everything ended the other night at Nathan's."  
  
She sits down on her bed, the phone cradled in her shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Brooke. I made my mistake and maybe-maybe I'm wrong about you two. . . You and Lucas."  
  
"Brooke and Lucas," Brooke speaks as she smiles. "I like how it sounds." She says this more to herself than anyone else. There's a pause-Peyton is obviously uncomfortable and Brooke realizes this. "Listen girl, I'm sorry too. I guess we both said things that we regret."  
  
"No, I was out of line. I mean - I missed my opportunity and I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. But, Brooke, he's a great guy. I hope you realize that."  
  
"I do, Peyton. Oh God, I do," Brooke says as she smiles. She remembers today, the way he felt inside her, and then she leans back on her bed. . . The same bed that they were on the other night before. She can almost smell his subtle, beautiful scent augmenting the fabric of her sheets.  
  
"So-I heard about your little escape today," Peyton laughs into the phone.  
  
"Crap-So much for being subtle about this whole thing," Brooke giggles in confirmation.  
  
"Did you guys have fun?" Peyton asks.  
  
"Maybe," Brooke taunts jokingly  
  
"Fun in a fornication kind of way?"  
  
"So much for you being subtle!!!" Brooke guffaws.  
  
"Oh please-since when have you ever not told me anything like that? But, seriously. . . You did him?"  
  
Brooke stops. "I know this doesn't totally make our whole thing seem like more than a fling, but yes, we did. But, Peyton, it felt so - different."  
  
"Different? How?"  
  
"I don't know. It's like - I can't describe it. I feel fulfilled."  
  
"It's about time," her friend chuckles. "That's sweet," Peyton whispers quietly. Brooke can tell that this is a tender subject for her friend.  
  
"I'm really glad that we're past this whole thing," Peyton continues before Brooke can change the subject. "I mean, it'll take getting used to but I'll be ok - you two will be ok."  
  
"I guess it'll just be awkward at first or something," Brooke inputs.  
  
They talk for a little bit longer, about a variety of certain things with Coldplay humming softly in the background on Brooke's stereo. She can hear some indie-rock group buzzing out of Peyton's speakers.  
  
They finally hang up and Brooke takes her hair out of the towel. She runs her brush through it, her constant pre-sleeping procedure.  
  
The phone rings again, its high-intensity squeal causing Brooke to jump and almost wet her pants. She picks it up again and places it next to her ear.  
  
"Brooke?"  
  
It's him and her heart leaps. He's the only one she's really wanted to talk to for the whole evening. Her parents dishearten her, and the whole drama with Peyton confuses her. . .  
  
But, with Lucas Scott she has a constant sense of stability.  
  
"Hey baby," she grins, holding the phone against her ear as she drops her robe and turns towards her bedside light.  
  
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," Lucas says across the other end of the line.  
  
She crawls under the covers after shutting off her light, his voice soothing her into placidity.  
  
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
  
Up next-More Lucas and Brooke bonding, school, and more Peyton, Haley, Nathan, and Keith! 


	10. Liberated

"I cannot believe I'm letting you do this to me."  
  
There's laughter, and music playing softly in the background. A small current of wind wafts in through an open window, carrying the warmth from outside into Brooke Davis' expansive bedroom.  
  
"Quit bitching, Pretty Boy. Besides, it looks so good!" she giggles. "There, now I'm done. As usual, my work amazes me."  
  
Lucas Scott sits up on Brooke's bed to look at his left foot, propped up on one of Brooke's fluffy pillows. It looks just like any normal teenage boy's foot - relatively large, with a prominent arch, but what really stands out would be the array of colors found on each toe.  
  
Pretty much every tint of the visible spectrum is represented on each of his five digits. It's done very neatly, with little lacquer on his cuticles. She's obviously very experienced in the art of toe-nail painting. He pulls her onto his chest as the pair falls back on the bed, admiring Brooke's handiwork.  
  
"You know, you do really have some pretty feet," she grins at him. He laughs back softly, his hand wiping a strand of her beautiful auburn hair behind her ear and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.  
  
It's been a normal Friday night-a normal game-night, rather. Between the culminations of the Scott brothers' scoring, the Tree Hill Ravens were victorious against some unknown team from one of the smaller bordering suburbs. It hadn't been a surprise to anyone.  
  
Afterwards, Nathan had disappeared with Haley, Peyton had driven off by herself, and Lucas was left with Brooke. Informing Keith that he was going to stay late after and help clean up the gym with Whitey, he had fled with Brooke in her vehicle to her home, her extremely empty home.  
  
And then they were here, with Brooke painting his toenails after commenting on just how boring he was and how he needed to live a little. So with vibrancy only Brooke Davis possessed, she soon had Lucas stripping off his socks and receiving a pedicure.  
  
"It's good to know that if I ever find myself needing a job, I could turn to painting people's toes," Brooke informs through spattered giggles. "I mean-we could go on dates and do each others' nails!"  
  
Lucas laughs. "It'd be just like a slumber party!" he says in mock-valley girl fashion.  
  
"Well, lookey there! Honorable Lucas Scott cracked a funny!" Brooke jokes as she crawls up her man's body.  
  
Their legs intertwine as Brooke traces his lips with her fingertips. They are warm and moist under her touch. His hand grasps hers as he kisses the back of it. He leans in for more, but she pulls away, reveling in his agony as she teases him.  
  
"I'm hungry," she laughs as she pulls him off the bed to his feet. She can't help but stare down at his illustriously-colored nails and cackle.  
  
"Shut up," he states menacingly, but his serious face breaks and a lop- sided grin forms. She leans forward, her hands finding themselves sliding down into the back pockets of his jeans, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him gently on the mouth.  
  
Brooke leads him downstairs by the hand, and soon they're sitting in the Davis' monstrous kitchen. She's got a pack of chocolate chip cookie mix that she drops onto the counter.  
  
"We're going to bake cookies," Brooke declares triumphantly, a hand upon her hip.  
  
Lucas sneers at her. "Please. Brooke, you can't even make Blue-box macaroni and cheese!"  
  
"Hey now, it was just burnt a little bit - and besides, I've got you here to help, right lover?"  
  
Lover.  
  
Love.  
  
Soon their hands are digging into the soft batter, the cookie dough sticking to their fingers and undersides of their hands. They mix it up, laughing all the while. Lucas picks up a fistful and drops it into Brooke's hair.  
  
She stares at him for a while, in disbelief. Then her mischievous grin appears on her stunning face and soon she has the bowl in her hands. Before Lucas can stop her, she pours it on his chest.  
  
"Shit! That's cold!" Lucas yells as the sticky material falls down his body and drips to the floor. "Girl, you are screwed."  
  
She's guffawing as she turns on her heel and dashes out of the kitchen, Lucas Scott hot on her heels. Her hand encloses a doorknob, and soon she's running on the well-paved poolside in her backyard.  
  
"Yes ma'am! You're going in!" Strong arms enclose around her waist, and then she's flying through the air, a breeze wafting through her hair. And then she's swimming, the water cool yet heavy with her clothes.  
  
She resurfaces and throws her head back, wet-hair whipping behind her in supermodel style.  
  
"Come on in, big boy." Brooke splashes, water landing at his feet. He rushes to the edge, then cannonballs into the clear liquid. He comes up next to her and she playfully swims away, kicking her feet heavily behind her.  
  
He navigates through the waves and grabs her ankle, pulling her into him like he's capturing some beautiful, exotic, cosmopolitan, endangered species. Their faces are close, his breathing warm on her face. He sees the cool, blue reflection of the pool surface on her face, and then careens his head in to kiss her.  
  
It's passionate, beautiful, as wet arms travel down each other.  
  
"Remember the last time we were in the pool?" Brooke whispers seductively in his ear as she nibbles on it. Lucas can only mutter timidly against her neck in reply - he feels almost ashamed for the way he acted back then because his feelings have changed so substantially, his desires for Peyton diminishing, while those aimed at Brooke increasing at an uncanny velocity.  
  
They get out of the pool, the cool night air eliciting gooseflesh along their bare bodies. Brooke finds a blanket and lays it out along the cobblestone ground bordering the mass of water and falls down onto her stomach, a bottle of wine in one hand with two glasses in the other.  
  
"I'm not even going to bother asking where you got that from," Lucas grins slyly as he falls onto his back, his head resting in the concave area residing in between Brooke's upper-back and behind. His feet dangle in the water as he gazes upwards, towards the stars.  
  
"Brooke," he starts, taking a glass from Brooke as she pours some for herself. The wine is red as he holds the flute up before his eyes. For a scant moment, the skies above him are tinted red, and shake and slosh about as he moves the glass to-and-fro. She turns to face him, clad in her wet tee-shirt and cut-offs, her face serious, inviting. He feels like he can say anything to her, as her eyes gaze right through him - those eyes, a sea of emotion that changes with every hue of her irises, every flicker of her cornea.  
  
"Do you ever wonder what else there is for us out there?" he asks slowly, leaning up to sip. The beverage is chilled, yet it's still hot as it goes down his throat, leaving a residual aftertaste that feels like his esophagus is burning.  
  
"What a profound question you've got there, Mr. Philosopher. Are those the kinds of things that circulate inside that beautiful little head of yours?" she inquires sarcastically, her voice husky and low against the soft, lingering effervescence of night, with the croaking harmonies of bullfrogs in the background. She turns over onto her back, placing his head on her stomach. Her fingers play with his hair, traversing skillfully through his damp tresses. Finally, as if she's finally finished formulating what she wants to say, her hand comes to rest on his forehead as she takes another sip.  
  
"Well, to be honest, I'm kind of hoping so."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Lucas cranes his neck to look her in the face, which is masked almost completely by the shadows of the large weeping willow tree above them.  
  
"I don't know. I mean, I'm not like you, Lucas. You'll be a success story wherever you go." She takes another swig then places the empty flute on the ground. "You're like the little-freaking-engine that could." She smiles sadly as she resumes playing with his hair.  
  
Lucas pulls his legs out of the water and sits up, drawing her close to him. "I think that you're a lot better than what you give yourself credit for, Miss Davis," he says, kissing the tip of her nose softly. "You're certainly more than a failure to me."  
  
That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to her, and she knows it. She kisses him softly, tenderly, and then rises to her feet, pulling him up with her. "Come on, baby. I think it's time we get you back home to Uncle."  
  
"But I'm not ready yet," Lucas states, his face mere inches from hers. "Besides, I still have that cookie shit on my pants."  
  
Brooke laughs and leads him inside. Seconds later the faucet is running, sending steaming water cascading out the nozzle onto the floor of the shower. Lucas sets one toe-nail painted foot onto the ceramic bottom then enters. He pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall at his feet.  
  
The door opens again. She steps in, completely and utterly naked.  
  
Lucas is stunned, shocked, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. This isn't the first time he's seen her naked; but this is the first time he's been completely beguiled by her stark nudity. Brooke is beautiful in every extent of the word.  
  
She steps inside, the water rushing down her bare back and plastering her tresses to her face. She approaches him and he can already feel the heat exuded from her body.  
  
Picking up her expensive body-wash, she squirts some at Lucas. He's gaping too much to stop as the blue, sticky material splatters all over his chest. She approaches and begins to rub the mess into his skin, her hand moving down to his navel and he moans. He leans his head back as the water washes into his hair.  
  
"My, are we getting a bit aroused?"  
  
He replies with a sexy, seductive smirk and Brooke giggles. "Well, try not to stare too much. I'm not done with you yet."  
  
She turns him around, and lathers the substance into his back, in between his shoulder blades. She stands up, kissing the nape of his neck as her hands sneak around his waist.  
  
"I need you Lucas."  
  
Without a word, he turns around.  
  
They kiss warmly, his hands caressing her soft, willowy body. Her hands are almost nurturing, gentle, and motherly as they move about his face, pulling him closer to her.  
  
He feels alive, elated, electrified. He can barely stand as he faces the power of her love in all its majesty. Lucas' pants are removed and love is made as the water pours down like reviving rainfall to a desolate plain.  
  
She doesn't want him to leave as they lay in the tub after it's finished, the water still falling above, intertwined in a mass of arms and legs. She leans her head back on his shoulder and closes her eyes, allowing water to soak her face. Again she cries, but this time it's for a different reason.  
  
This place, this temple that she has allotted for herself, this small orifice in an intricate weave of situations she calls life was the only place she could face her demons, to meet her shortcomings head-on. Now she's been liberated by this boy, this Lucas Scott. She's been saved, rescued from all the things bad in her life and this shower is no longer needed for crying. She'll think of him and what they shared here, within these glass confines.  
  
No longer a jail cell for judgment.  
  
He is her angel and her Godsend, given to her to prove that there is still goodness and righteousness and chivalry in this world.  
  
"You're so beautiful," he says, nuzzling her neck.  
  
It tickles and her thoughts escape her. "You've gotta go, baby."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You want me to drive you home?" she implores in a hush.  
  
"Nah, I got it."  
  
They step out of the shower, but she pulls him close and starts to cry again. He's nervous and scared, afraid that he's done something wrong.  
  
"Brooke, baby, what-what's the matter?"  
  
"Thank you, Lucas," she verbalizes after a slight pause.  
  
His face softens, his eyebrows rising as he smiles softheartedly. "For what?"  
  
"Too many things to name."  
  
He pauses, and then leans in to kiss away her tears.  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
Thanks for all the stellar reviews - keep 'em coming, as that's what inspires me to write! I'm still deciding whether or not there is going to be one or two more chapters left in this story, so any input would be graciously appreciated. Thanks again! 


	11. Karen

HEY y'all! I know it's been a while, but here's the next chapter. There will probably be 2-3 more! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews - they really, really, really mean a lot. You people are absolutely fantastic. Period.  
  
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Sometimes the best thing that ever happens to a person is hard for others to contemplate. How can two very different people make each other happy? Isn't there a point where these blatant discrepancies become so brutally obvious that it creates a rift?  
  
The answer is no.  
  
My name is Brooke Davis and I am walking testament to the statement "opposites attract". The guy that's stood by me since the beginning is still right next to me, watching my back and holding my chin up whenever I need the reinforcement, whenever I need to hear things like "you're beautiful" or "no Brooke, you haven't totally messed your life up". I've made so many mistakes, but he's loved me despite them all.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Autumn resides heavily in the air, the scent of falling leaves and descending temperatures ever-present on the crisp, chilly winds.  
  
Fall is a beautiful time of year in the small town of Tree Hill, North Carolina, when the leaves from the trees cascade down into the brown grasses; as the trees change from a lively green to more somber shades of red, brown, and orange. Summer has dissipated away like ghostly breath in the seemingly hyperborean air - the times of beach-visiting and walking around in skimpy outfits is gone.  
  
A bell resounds within the empty halls of Tree Hill High. Within nanoseconds, students spill out of doorways with the frenzy of a river flooding a dam. It's always pandemonium as the last class on a Friday dismisses.  
  
He walks alone to his locker, his usual gray hoodie equipped across his chest. His strides are brisk, as if he's in a hurry to be somewhere. Indeed, work at the shop starts in fifteen minutes and he can't afford to be late. Besides, his mom gets home later this evening.  
  
He turns the dial on his locker with a practiced ease and opens his locker quickly. Discarding books from his backpack, Lucas Scott's jaw drops as she walks down the hallway, her arm hooked in Peyton's.  
  
She's as beautiful as the first day he saw her - the first time he kissed her - the first time they made love.  
  
She grins at him as she notices him staring then turns to Peyton. She says something and then they laugh. Peyton nods in his direction, and then walks off to her own locker in the opposite direction.  
  
"Well hello, boyfriend," Brooke Davis grins slyly, sliding in front of Lucas and leaning on his locker. "And how was your day?"  
  
"Boring as hell, well, until you showed up." He smiles and they kiss softly. "And what about yours?"  
  
"The usual; note-writing and trying to figure out whether or not Mr. Wainwright has a hairpiece occupied most of my time. By the way, do you have any clue as to what today is?"  
  
"Our two-month anniversary," he answers without a pause.  
  
"Good boy! You get a cookie."  
  
"I'm not hungry," Lucas replies, smirking as he antagonizes her.  
  
"Beggars cannot be choosers, beautiful, but I guess a kiss will just have to do," she giggles as she stands on her tip-toes to plant a long smack on his lips.  
  
He brushes a falling shock of hair away from her face and closes his locker. Their fingers intertwine as they head down the hallway - people have finally stopped staring at the unlikely pair, the two that escaped from the school half-naked. It took a while for that one to simmer down.  
  
"So what time is this little dinner you're having for your mom?" Brooke inquires as they exit the institution. It's a little bit warmer today, and she reaches to take off her denim jacket. Lucas helps her with it.  
  
"We'll eat at about seven, after we get back from the airport, at my-"  
  
"At your place," Brooke finishes for him, smiling. "I've got it, I've got it. I'll be there with bells on."  
  
"Good. I really think my mom will like you, Brooke. I mean, you've got Keith practically eating out of the palm of your hand."  
  
"Well, if I must say, it's kind of hard not to like me," Brooke grins broadly, the dimples forming on her lightly blushed cheeks. "Not that I'm conceited or anything."  
  
"No, not conceited at all," Lucus murmurs as corners Brooke softly against her vehicle. He presses her against the car as he kisses her. Brooke's painted and glossed lips taste like strawberries against his, lush and full and wet. Her hand grasps the nape of his neck as she guides his mouth against hers with fervor.  
  
Suddenly, the alarm goes off and a shrill beeping noise resonates loudly throughout the student parking lot. Everywhere, kids look up at the duo going at it with a frenzy.  
  
"Well @#%$," she says nonchalantly. "Caught in the act!" She pulls away reluctantly then proceeds to double over laughing. Her lightheartedness is contagious, and Lucas shakes his head as he begins to chuckle. Soon they're cracking up amidst the beeping that is still pulsating in the background.  
  
*******************************************  
  
She pulls up in front of Lucas' house with the radio humming gently.  
  
"So, seven o'clock here."  
  
"Sharp!" he emphasizes firmly.  
  
"Ok, ok. Gotcha. That gives me just enough time to go with Peyton and Theresa to look for dresses."  
  
A confused look washes over Lucas' face as an exasperated one surfaces on hers.  
  
"Homecoming dresses, baby. Homecoming - which is next weekend, might I remind you; we really need to start getting this stuff together!"  
  
"Yea, you're the perfect matchmaker so I think this is well-within your capabilities. I'll see you tonight-"  
  
"At seven!"  
  
"Yes, at seven. Now you get a cookie," he gleams, playfully punching her in the shoulder.  
  
"Hell no! I want my kiss!"  
  
She grabs him by his hoodie and pulls him to her. When he gets out, his hair is just a little bit disheveled and his clothes are a bit rumpled as he maneuvers up his walkway to the porch. . .  
  
*******************************************  
  
He walks with Keith through the somewhat crowded airport terminal. The older man is obviously a bit anxious, nervous, his skin flushing.  
  
"Keith, man, you look like you're about to wet your pants."  
  
Keith turns to his nephew, and shakes his head. "I'm fine, kid. Here, your mom's getting off here."  
  
Lucas cracks a half-smile. He's almost positive that's a bead of sweat that Keith wipes away quickly.  
  
Both men seat themselves in the chairs. Lucas picks up the nearest teen-ish magazine and flips through the pages. Keith is staring intently out through the glass windows to the runway beyond. His hands are shaking.  
  
Lucas is about to inquire once again as to his uncle's condition when his cell phone rings. It's Brooke.  
  
"Baby - I found the most beautiful dress EVER!"  
  
Lucas smiles despite himself. Knowing Brooke it probably is gorgeous, stunning, spectacular, and probably expensive enough to really burn a whole in one's pocket.  
  
"Is your mom there yet?"  
  
"No," Lucas replies. "What's the dress like?"  
  
"Oh God, it's amazing - it's a two-piece! Can you believe that? No one else at Homecoming will have a two-piece dress. It's red, like red-apple red. There's a slit up to-"  
  
Lucas doesn't listen to a word she says - but he focuses on her voice. The husky, sexy alto voice softly buzzing through the phone. It's alive with enthusiasm, inviting, like a warm hearth during the winter. It's hypnotic and alluring and enchanting, capable of lifting someone to the highest apex of jubilation with the merest sigh. He loves the way she speaks, the sounds she makes when she's excited like this, how she's probably pacing back and forth in an attempt to contain her titillation.  
  
She talks about the jewelry, how she'll get her nails painted red, and about the stiletto pumps that went with the dress so well that Theresa found for her. . . Her happiness is like a remedy to everything bad in the world.  
  
How different would his life have been had he never discovered this happiness?  
  
"Lucas, they're here."  
  
"Brooke, my mom's getting off - I'll see you tonight."  
  
"Yea you will, baby. At seven! Tell your mom I said hey!"  
  
His face is aglow with happiness when the doors open. The international flight was fairly full, but eventually the crowd dims as they escape the thin tunnel connecting the aircraft to the building.  
  
He picks her out of the throng of individuals immediately despite her short stature. She's grown her raven-colored curls out longer, well below her shoulders, but she still carries herself with the same dignity and grace that she possessed before she left. She pulls the tote bag behind her - which appears to be just a tad bit fuller than what it was before her departure.  
  
"Mom!" Lucas shouts as he rushes forward. They embrace tightly, and she places a soft kiss on his unshaven cheek. She pulls away, a broad grin across her merry features.  
  
"What is this? I'm gone for six weeks and I come back and you've got a beard? It has got to be peach-fuzz."  
  
She pats his cheek then turns to Keith. "Well, it looks like you took very good care of my baby. I have no idea what you were worried about."  
  
Keith hugs her to him tightly, his eyes closed. He whispers something in her ear - all Lucas can decipher is the word "instincts". She looks up at him and smiles.  
  
After they've gotten all of suitcases from the baggage claim, the trio walks off to the pick-up. They put her bags on a cart and Karen wraps her arms around their shoulders.  
  
"I really missed you boys, you know that?"  
  
"Well you called like ten times within the first three days, Mom," Lucas teases.  
  
She pokes him in the ribs then clears her throat. "So, about this new girlfriend: when do I get to meet her?"  
  
Keith beats Lucas to it. "Well, Brooke's coming over tonight for dinner."  
  
Karen gives Lucas a sly grin then continues, hopping into the passenger seat. "Well, then we've got something to look forward to! My first day back and I've still got to cook."  
  
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--Next time on 'She's Electric!' : It's dinnertime at Karen's! And later - HOMECOMING! 


	12. Sunsets

I apologize for my lack of updating – finding time to devote to things that I love has just not been easy. But thanks for being faithful and enjoying my work. It's the greatest feeling of accomplishment I can imagine to have people begging for me to continue updating.  
  
I've been compelled to continue because of the current downfall Lucas is taking – I'm devoted to reviving his former sense of righteousness and the obsession (that, yea, I partially invented) he has for Brooke here! So enjoy.  
  
And, just for the record, I'm a firm believer in the fact that Brooke and Lucas' story isn't over. All the great romances have their stumbling blocks and this is just one of them. They have so much to offer and they're going to share it all with us, I guarantee it!  
  
So enjoy!  
  
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The pickup pulls up in front of the picturesque house and Keith hops out and trots over to the passenger side. He opens the door for Karen, who gently rises to her feet. She strides slowly up the walk, seeming to embrace what she had left for so long. She soaks up the scent of her home, the fresh-cut flowers, and the crisp, clean air.  
  
She turns around, towards Lucas with tears in her eyes. "God I've missed being home."  
  
"We missed you too, Mom," Lucas smiles gently. Somehow he feels like a void has been filled now that Karen Roe is back. Her matriarchal status on him has been suspended for too long. His routine is back, his rock – the one true thing he knows he can believe in.  
  
Keith hands Lucas some of his mother's luggage and they walk into the house.  
  
"I'm going out on a limb here, but why do I feel like you spent the last few days cleaning up this place in a frenzy?" Karen slyly smirks, glancing back over her shoulder at her son and friend.  
  
Keith and Lucas manage a quick look between each other, and then Keith clears his throat. "No way, Karen."  
  
"Whatever you say, Keith."  
  
Keith smiles at the brunette, who's so full of life. Lucas notices his uncle's lingering gaze, but doesn't mind. It's not exactly a surprise or anything.  
  
Lucas wraps his arm around his mother's shoulder as they stand, surveying the living room. "Well, I'm going to go unpack and then you can help me start dinner so we can get ready for this girl of yours!" Karen states jubilantly.  
  
"Sure, Mom." He smiles, but inside his stomach jumps with butterflies.  
  
They drop the luggage in Karen's room. She indicates for both of them to sit on her bed beside her as she opens up a knapsack.  
  
"I got you both something," she says as her hand disappears inside the bag. She removes an envelope that she hands to Keith and then a box that she distributes to Lucas.  
  
Keith takes out a bill and then smiles gleefully at Karen, chuckling. "One Euro," he laughs.  
  
"Yup!" she replies. "In exchange for the Lira you gave me before."  
  
"Thanks Karen," he beams, pocketing the envelope. "I'll save this for a rainy day."  
  
Lucas opens his box. Inside is a large snow globe with the skyline of Florence in the background. He pushes a button on the side and it lights up. The words "you're in my heart" are illuminated with the touch of the button. Lucas shakes the globe and sends the "snow" within circulating through the water.  
  
"Thanks, Mom." He kisses her on the cheek as she pulls them both close.  
  
"You have no idea how great it is to be home!"  
  
********************************************************  
  
Karen can feel the palpable nervousness exuded from her son as he glances from his watch to the front door. She also noticed the light in his eyes the moment they picked her up from the airport. Whatever this girl is doing, she's happy that Lucas is experiencing something besides deprivation, heartache, and, no matter how much he tries to stifle it, the desire for something more.  
  
"Try not to wet your pants over there," she remarks as she stands over the stove.  
  
He jumps and then turns to her. "Sorry, Mom."  
  
"Lucas, if you really love me you'll pass me that strainer in the drawer."  
  
"Yea – if I really loved you," he laughs.  
  
"Oh, burrrrrrrn," she counters jokingly as she takes the strainer from her son's outstretched hand and smacks him across the behind with it.  
  
Lucas cackles along with Karen as they engage each other in a mock- swordfight with kitchen utensils, the spaghetti sauce boiling in the background.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Brooke Davis hates slow drivers. But, today she is one of those aforementioned that have caused her to shout obscenities at her dashboard more times than she can count.  
  
Her hands grip the leather of her steering wheel as she stares through her sunglasses at the road before her. She doesn't know why she's so nervous to arrive at the Scott home. She's never been scared like this before.  
  
Maybe because she's never had to meet the parents before.  
  
Or maybe because she's never cared what the parents thought.  
  
In the passenger seat sits a pan of casserole she managed to cook herself – thankfully it didn't burn or overcook. God was on her side.  
  
She turns down Lucas' street, the weeping willows swaying in the soft autumn breeze. Dead leaves scurry across the concrete pavement as her Volkswagen crawls by. The Justin Timberlake CD drones softly in her car.  
  
Brooke Davis takes a deep breath and turns into Lucas' driveway. Keith's pickup is before her as she pulls the rearview mirror down to gaze into it. She touches up on her makeup quickly, and when she feels that she's presentable enough, Brooke sets one high-heeled foot onto the concrete. She's dressed nicely, hoping to impress.  
  
Running around to the other side of the car, she hefts the pan holding the casserole in her hands and lifts the hangar with her Homecoming dress on it in the other. She makes her way up the walk to the door and manages to press the bell despite her obvious burden and mental inhibitions.  
  
The screen opens and Lucas greets her. His warm hand guides her lips to his as he takes the pan.  
  
"You managed to make a casserole. Nice."  
  
"A lot of sweat and blood went into that, so be careful." He guides her inside, and notices that her hand is shaking.  
  
"Brooke, are you ok?"  
  
"I'm about to wet my pants. Let's just get this over with."  
  
Lucas pulls her close to him and gently guides her face up to him, gazing into her eyes. "If my mother has any sense, and believe me – she does, she'll adore you."  
  
Brooke manages a hesitant smile as he kisses her forehead.  
  
"And I'm guessing this is Brooke."  
  
The pair pull away quickly to see Karen standing in the doorway with her apron on.  
  
"Oh, God." Brooke clears her throat and extends her hand. "Hey Ms..." She almost says Scott, but stops herself. "-Roe."  
  
Karen takes her hand and marvels at Brooke's beauty – Keith said that she was very pretty, but she wasn't prepared for this. She had captured quick glances at a few basketball games and at Dan Scott's party, but she had never been able to see Brooke Davis in person. "Keith and Lucas told me you were pretty but, wow! You are gorgeous!"  
  
Brooke blushes, and her cheeks dimple. She looks away at Lucas. "Thanks," she giggles nervously. "I love your..."  
  
Please, God, don't say apron, Brooke reminds herself.  
  
"I love your skirt."  
  
Karen smiles again. "Thanks! I actually got it in Florence last week, right before I left."  
  
"Mom, Brooke cooked us a casserole," Lucas says as he hands Karen the pan.  
  
She takes the pan. "Well Lucas – you got a good one! She's pretty and she can cook. Come on in, Brooke... Make yourself at home!" she says invitingly. "Is that your Homecoming dress?"  
  
Brooke finally notices the dress on the hanger she's carrying in her left hand. "Oh, yea—I mean, yes! I just bought it yesterday."  
  
Karen walks forward as Brooke holds the dress out to the older woman. "Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous!" She looks to Lucas. "Luke, will you go check the pasta sauce for me, please?"  
  
Lucas walks off into the kitchen as he hears Brooke and Karen delve deeply into conversation. He turns the knob to turn off the stove and begins to take care of the sauce. Keith walks in and stands next to him.  
  
"So I see Brooke's met your mom."  
  
"Yea – I guess she likes her," Lucas smiles happily, content.  
  
"Sounds like it." They're interrupted as a duet of laughter erupts from the other room. "I guess they're hitting it off. But how could you not like Brooke. She has everything going for her."  
  
Lucas can only smile softly and nod to him as he removes four plates from the cabinet. He distributes them along the table and Keith helps him light the candles.  
  
Soon enough, they're all sitting around the table, engaged in conversation. Karen talks to Brooke about cheerleading – reviving anecdotes from her days as a member of the squad.  
  
The casserole is surprisingly good, Lucas notices. He also notices how the light from the flame somehow dances in Brooke's eyes and makes her seemingly radiate like the sun, how the planes of her face soften whenever she laughs, how she always tilts her head whenever she's listening intently...  
  
The little things remind him why he's falling in love with her.  
  
Her vibrancy, her passion for living, her contagious laugh.  
  
The four discuss many things: from school, to the shop (Brooke comments on just how wonderfully maintained it is), and they all agree that Deb has done a great job under the circumstances. Brooke fills Karen up on the juiciest of gossip – something that Lucas never knew his mother engaged in.  
  
For once he gets to see her have fun, enjoy herself, connect with someone on a much less serious level. It seems that Brooke has that weird ability to lighten everyone's mood – she makes everything seem so trivial. The only other person besides himself and Haley that has been able to make his mother so nonchalant is Keith.  
  
By nine the dinner is done, and they're just sitting around the table enjoying each others' company. They're interrupted from the discussion when the doorbell rings.  
  
Lucas volunteers to answer it and disappears down the hallway. He's surprised to see Haley, and even further shocked to see the tall form of Nathan standing behind her. The latter is fidgeting, his eyes darting about uncomfortably.  
  
"Hey Hales," Lucas smiles, opening the door for the two.  
  
"Lucas!" Haley grins, embracing her best friend. He nestles his head on the top of hers. They release each other and he turns to Nathan. There's an awkward silence before Nathan comes forward, outstretching his hand.  
  
"Luke," he nods, almost friendly.  
  
Lucas takes it. "Nathan, 'sup man?"  
  
Lucas can tell that this simple gesture has made Haley's day, and she intercepts. "We wanted to come by and say hi to your mom!"  
  
Deb Scott appears in the doorway behind Nathan and Haley. Lucas hastily lets her in. "Deb," he grins. Lucas can't help but like the other woman – she has all the best of intentions at heart, having just been burdened with a very difficult hand to work with.  
  
"Hi Lucas," she says patting him gently on the arm. They can both agree that it's a bit awkward, but pasts can be unforgiving. Lucas admires her strength and tenacity – knowing that her life and every truth she knew to be firm and valid is collapsing like the walls of Jericho.  
  
Karen and Brooke emerge from the kitchen, Keith in tow. Deb and Karen immediately embrace like friends long-separated. "Deb, I want to thank you for what you've done," Karen says, her hands planted on the other woman's shoulders.  
  
"I'm just so glad you agreed to it! So much has happened while you were gone: the business is booming – I finally learned how to make the perfect cappuccino!"  
  
Karen laughs. Brooke melts into Lucas' arms, her head resting on his shoulder as Karen turns to Haley and hugs the other girl tightly. "Deb, Haley, I brought you both some stuff back from Florence. Come with me to go grab my bag. Lucas, do you and Brooke want to-"  
  
"-We're fine," Lucas interrupts. "Go on ahead."  
  
Haley, Deb, Keith, and Nathan follow Karen into the back room.  
  
"You worried for nothing," Lucas whispers to Brooke, her face mere inches from his as her arms wrap around the back of his neck. She kisses him softly.  
  
"I've wanted to do that all night," she remarks timidly.  
  
"Me too."  
  
He takes her by the hand and they exit outside onto the porch. He sits on the steps and she joins him. It's sunset, and the sky is alive with hues of gold and red and blues in the far distance.  
  
"I love this time of night," Brooke says softly. "When you can see the moon in the sky but the stars aren't out yet. It's like the final minutes before the end – before it gets dark. And you've gotta hold on to that picture – the way it looks – until you see it again."  
  
"But the sky – it won't ever be exactly the same again," Lucas says, correcting her gently.  
  
"That's why it's beautiful. Because it's unpredictable."  
  
His hand brushes her cheek as their lips touch again.  
  
"I love you Brooke."  
  
She pulls away slowly, and there are tears in her eyes. A droplet falls slowly across her cheek.  
  
He stares, confused, his thumb wiping away the tear. She takes his hand and kisses it, holding it against her cheek.  
  
"Say it again, Luke."  
  
He smiles tenderly as he repeats the three little words that shake her world like an earthquake. And she knows he means them.  
  
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Next on 'She's Electric'! HOMECOMING! And later – tragedy strikes. 


	13. The Calm

You guys are god-sends. Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews!  
  
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The soft acoustic hum of Dashboard Confessional dances in the air of Lucas Scott's bedroom. The stereo system blares incoherently as the closet door swings open, and the tall blonde boy emerges, an assortment of ties of different styles and colors in his hand.  
  
The pressed, white shirt is slung over his hand; he's wearing his slacks now as his bare feet thump on his carpet as he decides which of the lucky dozen will be sported tonight at this festive event.  
  
Except that right now, with ten minutes before he has to pick Brooke Davis up and meet everyone at Karen's Café, Homecoming is little more than a stressful evening of worry.  
  
He's showered, effectively perfumed and deodorized, and ready to go. Lucas regrets, however, not making his mother select his ensemble for the magical evening. He almost thinks about calling Brooke up and asking for her expert advice but decides against that.  
  
Lucas is a big boy – he can surely select a tie for himself.  
  
He gulps as he holds each up in front of the white shirt, all the while his toes digging into the soft floor beneath his soles.  
  
"I guess I'm going to have to help you out again – ties are just definitely not your thing, Luke."  
  
He glances up at his door quickly as a sweet aroma wafts inside.  
  
His jaw drops as his eyes fall upon Haley James – looking quite like a woman he has never seen before.  
  
Haley's heart-shaped face is decked out completely in makeup, her pouty lips fully plump, her almond eyes dark with paint. Her dress is strapless, a tangerine color. Her hair is done in a sort of twist, with wayward locks falling to frame her high cheekbones.  
  
"I know – I look like a Goth princess," she shrugs, moving about almost awkwardly atop her matching orange pumps. "Remind me next time to never wear heels this high," she continues absently.  
  
"Hales... You look absolutely—amazing," Lucas manages to stutter.  
  
"You think so? Or are you just obligated to say that, you know – you having the best friend's duty and all." She picks up a scarlet-tinted tie and begins knotting it around his shirt, slowly and laboriously with the large manicured fingernails she wears – also orange.  
  
"Damn solar nails... There we go." She steps away to admire her masterpiece as Lucas puts on the shirt.  
  
"Aw, Luke. You look too hot. Brooke'll love it!"  
  
"I hope so," Lucas smiles softly, rosy cheeks appearing.  
  
"So - anyways, the door was unlocked and I thought I'd stop by before we all leave to go to, you know, your mom's."  
  
"Haley – you're nervous," Lucas says gently, swinging the jacket around his shoulders.  
  
"Oh please," his best friend replies, poking his abs with her sharp nail. "And you're getting soft."  
  
"Seriously Hales, I can tell. You can barely stand still."  
  
Haley stops and takes a deep breath. "Luke, I'm scared shitless," she wheezes rushing towards him. Lucas embraces her in a deep bear hug.  
  
"Haley, you look absolutely freaking amazing. Nathan isn't blind, so he'll see that."  
  
"How'd you know I was nervous about him?"  
  
"I'm not blind either."  
  
"Thanks, Luke." They let each other go and Haley pats his shoulder. "Well, you'd better go get your girl – you're gonna be late."  
  
Lucas glances at the clock on his nightstand.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
Haley laughs as Lucas charges out of the room, remembering to grab Brooke's corsage but forgetting his loafers and socks. Haley holds up both in her hands as Lucas reenters the room and takes both. He plants a quick kiss on her powdered cheek, and then smacks her behind.  
  
"Let yourself out. I'll see you in a few!"  
  
She nods, grinning, as he makes his second exit. She watches him leave, marveling at just how much of a man he's become because of Brooke Davis.  
  
**********  
  
She takes one quick last look in her wall-sized mirror then sprays Coco Chanel upon her neck when she hears his truck pull up in her driveway.  
  
Turning, she slips her feet into the ultra thin-heeled stilettos, and rises nearly five inches in the air. She's a wiz at moving in them, though, having trained herself immaculately. Her mother, being the ex-beauty pageant queen that she was, always said that a woman that couldn't move in heels wasn't a woman at all.  
  
Besides, Brooke likes the way her legs look when she wears them.  
  
Brooke feels completely naked in the dress – it's a two-piece, but cut shorter than she expected so it feels very snug on her breasts and cut very low along her stomach. She loves the color though, a deep scarlet. On her navel she sports her bellybutton ring – silver with a real ruby stone. A matching ruby dangles around her neck, with two more hanging from her ears.  
  
Rushing down the stairs, she hears the bell ring. She has got to get there before her parents do.  
  
Unfortunately, she hears her mother's excited squeal as the door opens and she lets poor, unsuspecting Lucas into the Lion's Den.  
  
"You must be LUCAS!" she howls, practically pulling him inside excitedly. "BRUCE! Lucas is here!" she continues to scream, jarring Brooke's head.  
  
"Damn it, Marjorie. I'm coming."  
  
Her parents – being engaged in the eternal absence they almost always are caught up in – are meeting Lucas for the first time. Brooke feels sorry for him, but she'll be to his rescue as soon as she retrieves his boutonnière from the refrigerator.  
  
As her hand clasps the metal, she hears her father in the other room, beginning his interrogation. Like he really cares how Lucas treats his daughter... Where was this perfect father when all the other boys defiled his "little girl"?  
  
Enough for regrets, she reminds herself as she carries the plastic in her hand. The clip-clop of her heels on the hardwood marks her presence as she enters the entrance hall, the crystal chandelier dangling above and glowing in majestic glory.  
  
"Hey there, boyfriend," she grins, taking the fuchsia-colored orchid out of its container.  
  
"Kodak moment!" her mother squeals gleefully, hefting the digital camera in front of her and unleashing a barrage of flashes from the machine.  
  
"Damn it, Mom," Brooke snarls, covering her eyes.  
  
"Oh Brooke, just shut up and look pretty. Don't ruin this for me."  
  
For me? Brooke almost unleashes on her mother right there, her face tightening up as she manages to flash a very-fake, overly-flamboyant smile across her features. Lucas obviously notices and places a reaffirming hand in the small of her back.  
  
She pins the orchid in his suit jacket, and he wraps the matching orchid corsage around her wrist; his eyes are wide, almost in awe of her ethereal beauty.  
  
She exuded sex and passion before. Now – he surmises – she still wields that same sex appeal, but she looks like a goddess, or a movie star. Like Audrey Hepburn. She resembles a porcelain doll.  
  
When they're finished, Bruce hands Brooke a wad of cash that she accepts gratefully, tossing it into her matching crimson handbag. She slides her hand into the nook of Lucas' arm as he escorts her outside. She waves back to the parents she never knew as they close the door behind her.  
  
**********  
  
He opens the car door for her, politely. When she's sitting in the seat, he jumps in on top of her and presses the button on the side that reclines the seat. They topple backwards as he kisses her fiercely, inhaling her perfumed scent.  
  
"Brooke – I want you so badly right now..." he wheezes through his kisses.  
  
She roughly pushes him off of her, chuckling. "Save it for the afterparty, Casanova! If you mess up my hair, I'll castrate you, no matter how pretty you may be." She fingers his tie, centering it, as he leans back – into the dashboard.  
  
"You look so beautiful."  
  
"Aw – you're sweet. But I must agree with you; I do look pretty damn fine tonight."  
  
Lucas grins from ear to ear – "Ever the modest one. Let's go. They're probably all waiting for us."  
  
"Drive on, boyfriend. But, since you're so – excited, and pretty friggin' hot tonight – I'll give you a little taste of what's to come." She leans forward, taking his head in her hands, and plants a soft kiss on his forehead. "Drive on, baby."  
  
**********  
  
Lucas parks the truck in front of his mom's café and jumps out, running to the passenger side. He opens it for Brooke and takes her hand, preparing to help her out.  
  
"Dang – how can you walk in those?" Lucas inquires, indicating towards her shoes.  
  
"It comes with skill, darling." She pauses, extending one leg in front of his face. "What, you don't think they're sexy?"  
  
"Oh, I think they are very, very sexy," he snickers – almost naughtily. He runs a finger along her smooth, silky leg, as she jumps out of the car, planting her stiletto-ed feet on the concrete.  
  
"That's good," she whispers into his ear, hiking up her skirt to step up onto the curb. "Let's go, boyfriend."  
  
He takes her hand and they proceed to the shop. They're greeted by laughter and the sound of soft rock on the storewide speakers. The scent of great, home-cooked food fills their noses as Lucas leads Brooke inside.  
  
"Luke! You're late!" Karen rushes behind the counter, Deb Scott in tow. She stops as she catches sight of Brooke, Deb right behind her. "Oh my goodness; Brooke – you look absolutely breathtaking."  
  
Brooke blushes – "Thanks," she laughs demurely. "I just have a really good hairdresser." Karen and Deb engage Brooke in conversation.  
  
"Go ahead and sit down for a bit, Lucas," Deb says kindly. "We're still waiting on Tim and Theresa."  
  
Brooke indicates Lucas to go on into the café while she continues talking to the mothers.  
  
"Hey stranger."  
  
Lucas turns around to see Peyton leaning on the counter, a Dr. Pepper in hand.  
  
"Peyton, you look – wow!"  
  
Indeed, she does look beautiful – a far cry from her Converse sneakers and vintage tee-shirts. Her yellow gown is simple, yet elegant – her hair is left down and curled intricately. She has on long gloves that come to her elbows, and some kind of heavy perfume.  
  
She looks like every image of perfection.  
  
Yet – he'll never feel for this girl the way he once did.  
  
"Thanks, Lucas." She smiles, downing the rest of the cola. "You look really, really good yourself. And Brooke looks absolutely amazing." She nods off into the distance towards her friend, who waves back.  
  
"Peyton... Why do things still seem so weird between us? I mean – it's still been like three months and I just feel-"  
  
"-Awkward? Me too."  
  
They pause, Lucas' eyes darting about back and forth. "I'm sorry about everything, Peyton."  
  
She stops him, right as Brooke begins to approach. "Everything is going right for you right now. Don't be sorry. Be happy."  
  
Lucas manages a quick smile as her words sink in, and he feels Brooke's hand grasp his arm.  
  
Haley and Nathan approach – Nathan extends his hand to Lucas again and Lucas takes it, shaking it warmly. "Nate," he nods, smiling. Haley smiles as well – comforted by the acceptance between her best friend and boyfriend.  
  
Jake is in the back of the room, near the table, pacing back and forth. He talks into his cell phone heatedly, finally hanging up in a huff.  
  
"Jenny's sick," he says to Peyton, his date.  
  
Peyton's blue eyes flash in sadness, but she catches herself. "You should go home to her."  
  
"No – I asked you to this dance and I'm taking you. My mom said she'll watch Jenny anyways."  
  
"Are you sure, Jake? I mean – having a kid is kind of a monumental obligation."  
  
"Seriously – it'll be fine. Let's go."  
  
They all sit at the table, eating the steak Karen's prepared for them. She and Deb tend to the other patrons while the assembly begins discussion. Roughly ten minutes later, a disheveled Theresa and a shabby-looking Tim burst into the doors of the private den area. The others can only imagine what act the two could have just finished engaging in.  
  
Theresa looks pretty enough and Tim sharp, but Lucas never felt especially close to either one of them. Nathan, however, is another story, as he leans across the table and slaps his friend's hand. Brooke hugs Theresa then sits back down next to Lucas and Peyton.  
  
She digs into her salad as she smiles at her friend. "I love your hair, Peyton. It looks really good."  
  
"Thanks," Peyton replies, cocking her head. She rummages through her own salad, picking at the croutons. "So, how are you and Lucas?"  
  
Brooke never understood their story – what existed between Lucas and Peyton. Sure, she knew that there was a spark, some kind of initial attraction, but she trusted Lucas – still trusts Lucas. Enough to know that he would never act on something that, hopefully, was nonexistent.  
  
Maybe it had been the desire to possess what his brother had. To possess what he himself never did possess.  
  
For forever this subject, Lucas, had been taboo between the two best friends. Brooke and Lucas' romance was passionate, and despite what many others' initial impressions had been, epic. But there would always be that doubt in the back of Brooke's mind, that insecurity, that fear that something still was there between Peyton Sawyer and Lucas Scott.  
  
"We're really good." In an attempt to moderate how much Lucas was discussed, Brooke had greatly decreased discussion about what happened between her and the love of her life. That was what Theresa was for.  
  
"I've got to admit, Brooke. I never expected you and Lucas to stay together this long. I guess you've proved a lot of people wrong," Haley chimes in from across the table.  
  
"I guess we have," Brooke says softly. "I love your dress by the way, Tutor-Girl."  
  
Haley rolls her eyes playfully at the nickname that has seemed to stick. "Thanks," she chants back. "You look very...provocative yourself."  
  
"Touché," laughs Brooke. "Ever the little firecracker."  
  
For once, they all seem like friends – none of this web, this confusion.  
  
**********  
  
He escorts her onto the dance floor, the auditorium decorated exquisitely. The theme of Homecoming this year is "A Red Carpet Affair", so Student Council, which Peyton and Brooke are both members of, has been busy displaying movie posters all about the walls with a giant red carpet spanning the entrance hallway of Tree Hill High School.  
  
She melts into him as Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" explodes out of the speakers with all of the gusto the diva can muster. To Luke it's almost nuantic – all of her vocal gymnastics annoy him and the meaning of the song to him is effectively ruined.  
  
"Could they possibly play any sappier music?" Luke asks. Brooke shooshes him as she leans up to kiss him softly on his lips.  
  
"I will always love you, Lucas Scott."  
  
And then, with her words, the song seems alive – like a spoken letter from her heart to his. He draws her close to him as they kiss again, moving to the motion next to Nathan and Haley – also engaging in a gentle, sweet make- out session on the dance floor.  
  
Brooke rests her head on his shoulder, his strong arms guiding her against the music, the gentle rhapsody rocking her like a boat upon the deep, crystalline waves. The cadence flows through her, seeming to rush through her blood. Her hands grasp his shoulders as she closes her eyes. She feels his fingers entwine in a tendril of her almond-colored tresses. He smells her hair, kissing the top of her head.  
  
Brooke waves to Peyton across the floor as her best friend holds tight to Jake.  
  
Later – the tempo picks up as a 50 Cent song is played. Exuberantly, they all dance together – a mass of bodies grinding against each other playfully. Peyton and Brooke dance together, laughing joyously.  
  
Truly hoes before bros.  
  
**********  
  
When the dance is over, Brooke finds herself lying in Lucas arms on the pier at Nathan's beach house.  
  
Jake left hours before, right after the dance – having to take care of his daughter.  
  
Nathan and Haley are inside watching a movie.  
  
She leans back into his body, his bare feet dangling into the water. They've changed out of their tuxes and dresses, their loafers and pumps. Lucas has on a simple wifebeater, and Brooke sports a small tanktop.  
  
The salty breeze reminds Brooke of their first escapade, initially the first time they ever made love.  
  
"The stars are out tonight," Lucas whispers softly in her ear.  
  
"Yea," Brooke states. "There's Andromeda."  
  
"I always loved Cancer."  
  
"The crab?" Brooke laughs, turning around to face her boyfriend. "You can pick from centaurs, giant sea monsters, and kick-ass gods and you pick seafood? How boring are you!"  
  
"Hey, the crab is cool... Don't diss the crab," Lucas smirks.  
  
"Whatever. Loser." Brooke stands, pulling Lucas to his feet before her. "You know what is really cool?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The water." Brooke grabs his wrist and throws him behind her. She hears a splash and then he resurfaces, throwing his hair back behind him.  
  
"Holy shit! It's freezing!"  
  
Brooke can't stand, laughter overcoming her. She collapses onto the planking of the pier, cackling. She feels a wet hand grasp her ankle, and soon she's pulled in too.  
  
She comes up next to him, a mouthful of saltwater, and spits it out in his face.  
  
"Haha!" Brooke giggles, as he spits back at her. Her mascara runs down her cheeks, but she doesn't care. She grabs the top of his head, trying to dunk him beneath the dark waves. She's unsuccessful.  
  
The sound of splashing is heard inside the room where Peyton stares out at the silhouette of two of her closest friends frolicking in the moonlight. The illumination from the sky casts a silvery glow upon the tear falling down her cheek.  
  
"P-Peyton. Ugh." Without another word, Tim Smith vomits all over the floor, an empty beer can in his hand with six more on the kitchen table.  
  
"Gross, Tim!"  
  
"Sorry, baby. Hey – Theresa's gone. And Jake is gone. So – whaddaya say we take this upstairs..." Jake sneers, trying to grab Peyton by the shoulders, but eventually using her as his balance as he prepares to heave again.  
  
"I do not think so, buddy." Peyton steps lightly over the puke on the floor, picking up the trashcan for Tim to regurgitate in. "I'm guessing you need to go home before you cause more of mess." Peyton looks into the dark living room, looking for Nathan. He's curled up with Haley, both asleep while watching Lord of the Rings.  
  
"Well he's obviously out of the picture," Peyton says to herself. And Brooke was outside, with Lucas. "Ok, come on. I'm taking you home." Peyton picks up her keys off of the table after cleaning up the spew. She leads Tim out, his arm swung over her shoulder, Brooke and Lucas' laughter still reverberating throughout the night.  
  
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Next on 'She's Electric' : The tragedy that shakes up Tree Hill. Stay tuned. 


	14. Bubblebaths and Coldplay

~*~Thanks for all the great reviews guys! I truly do appreciate them. Now – I have to warn you. This chapter gets somewhat graphic, but it's done tastefully. I just think Brooke and Lucas deserved some semblance of intimacy before the explosive moments that are going to take place in the too-near future. As always – read, enjoy, and leave me love, yo! Peace.~*~  
  
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The wind whips about with a vengeance, the salty breeze burning her nostrils as she maneuvers through the cool waters. It is dark, like a sea of ebony liquid, but the sky is full of bright starlight gleaming from above. The moon continues to shine, casting a luminescent glow on her face. Brooke Davis almost looks like a porcelain doll as the silvery gleam cascades down her bare shoulders, the water lapping at her neck.  
  
He winks at her, swimming away slowly. His toes can touch the sandy bottom no longer, so he stops, daring not to move any further out. She swims out to him, her arms grasping his naked body and pulling her closer to him. She wraps her lithe body around him, her flesh alive with goose bumps in the chilly night air. She shivers, her lips enticingly close to his, her breath warm upon his face.  
  
He manages to stand on his tip-toes, digging his big toe into the soft sand beneath the surface of the water to keep them afloat. Her graceful fingers caress his face, tracing his jaw line.  
  
"You look nice when you're clean-shaven, boyfriend," she whispers softly.  
  
"My face is cold."  
  
"Oh? Well, I guess I'll just have to warm it up for you." She kisses his neck, then his jaw, nibbling at his chin. Her luscious lips travel to his cheeks, her fingers entwining themselves in his wet hair. She kisses him softly, a lingering kiss that he tastes upon his lips long after she's gone.  
  
The wind continues to howl, the water getting rougher when the pair decides to leave. Raindrops begin falling as Brooke climbs the ladder onto the pier and picks up her discarded clothes. She carries Lucas' too as a flash of lighting bursts across the dark sky, a thunderous clap not far behind. She runs down the wooden planking quickly as the raining intensifies and soon she's freshly soaked again.  
  
She feels his cool hands on her back as she opens the door and steps inside. It's warm and smells nice inside and she stands there next to him rubbing her shoulders to keep from shivering.  
  
She catches a look at a very distinct feature of her boyfriend's anatomy and begins laughing. He glances down and immediately blushes.  
  
"I'm freezing my ass off – It's... It's..."  
  
"Yea – whatever!" Brooke hands him a dry towel and they both wrap it around their bodies.  
  
Brooke walks into the kitchen while Lucas goes into the small sitting area and clicks the television off. Nathan and Haley are fast-asleep, Nathan's arms enveloping Lucas' best friend protectively as her head rises on Nathan's chest with every breath the other Scott brother takes.  
  
Lucas can't help but smile at the expression on both of their faces. He begins to accept Nathan's change – his metamorphosis. But Haley has that tendency, Lucas reminds himself - that rare ability to bring out the best in everyone.  
  
Lucas grabs a nearby blanket and throws it over the two. He follows his girlfriend into the kitchen.  
  
Brooke is busy reading a letter left on the stove, but looks over at Lucas.  
  
"Peyton just left to take Tim home," Brooke says. "She doesn't know if she's going to come back."  
  
Lucas looks away. He feels guilty because there is that palpable, tangible awkwardness that exists between him and the girl that he thought he had to have.  
  
Brooke rolls her eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."  
  
Lucas stares after her as she stops and turns to him.  
  
"You coming?"  
  
All worries he has regarding Peyton Sawyer diminish as a gleeful grin forms on his face as he follows Brooke into the master bathroom.  
  
**********  
  
Brooke pours in the bubbles as the warm water empties into the sunken tub. The Scott's apparently spent a fortune decorating the bathroom, as the Jacuzzi-style tub is built into the very ground. Adjacent, against the wall and next to a potted array of tulips and flowers is a small stereo system.  
  
"I bet Nathan's parents got it on like rabbits in this bathtub," Brooke announces as she beckons to Lucas to turn around as she discards her towel. He doesn't understand her modesty – he's made love to her, been skinny- dipping with her, yet she still desires to leave something to the imagination as opposed to standing nude before him. He may not understand it, but he does appreciate her desire to keep something sacred about her body.  
  
He only turns when she's fully immersed, the bubbles floating around the expansive pool of marble. Lucas dips one foot into the bath, and Brooke rubs it, her hand traversing up his leg, and coming to rest at his sides as he seats himself on the side of the tub. She kisses his hard stomach, her lips almost tickling as he shivers. He leans back, resting his back on the bathroom floor, his legs dipped into the warm liquid.  
  
She continues gently, almost motherly, as she kisses his navel, her hands massaging his nipples. He stares at the ceiling of the room and notices that there is a giant skylight – allowing the lunar light from above and the soft patter of raindrops to add a seemingly intense, sensual mood to the atmosphere. The lights turn off slowly as the stereo next to the tub jumps to life. The soothing sounds of Coldplay's Clocks meets Lucas' ears as Brooke's trail of kisses travels lower until she's reached his nether regions.  
  
He moans softly as she incites ecstasy like he's never experienced before – a moment of beautiful, powerful, electrifying passion that seems to make Lucas feel as if he'll explode if he doesn't contain what he's feeling.  
  
But alas, he can't contain it. Lucas reaches the brink and gives in – allowing himself to fall perpetually in an endless sky of blue – everything is foggy and he finds it hard to move as his hand reaches her out, just to make sure she's there – just to make sure she hasn't left him.  
  
"I'm here, Lucas. I'm here," she says as she takes his hand and guides him into the water next to her. Brooke takes his head and places it on her breast as she leans back into the cold marble of the tub; his breathing is heavy against her neck as he shivers despite the heat.  
  
She kisses his forehead as he looks up at her, his deep blue eyes heavy and ripping through the darkness like a knife. Brooke kisses his lips tenderly as they maneuver themselves to a position where he can enter her easiest.  
  
She's since shown him how to do this – each time improving. Lucas is finicky at first, but he's a fast learner. When it's over, they're gasping for air as they collapse against the marble again. Brooke reaches over and turns down the music before she crawls into his lap.  
  
"I wonder if Peyton's going to come back," Lucas says after a period of short silence.  
  
Brooke pauses then looks up at him. "We just did it...and you're thinking about her?" She stops, her fingers walking up his chest. "I doubt she's going to – why do you care?"  
  
"I don't know. I guess I just feel bad, you know?"  
  
"What could you possibly feel bad about?" Brooke inquires, the jets humming softly beside her, spilling even more bubbles into the water.  
  
"I just feel bad – that's all."  
  
"Sure." Brooke sits up in the water, leaning back against the other side of the tub. "What happened with the two of you?"  
  
"Nothing happened, Brooke. I had feelings for her, sure, but then you came along and I saw a side of you that I had never seen before – and that I have to say was pretty unexpected." He stops, licking his lips and taking a breath. "And then I was hooked."  
  
Brooke smiles softly. "Nice save, gorgeous."  
  
She crawls back into his lap and they begin to kiss again.  
  
Suddenly the lights are on and the door swings wide open. Brooke and Lucas both curse as they jump off of each other, startled like two deer caught in the headlights.  
  
"Ok – normally I'd apologize for walking in during your little intimate, bubbly encounter but something really, really bad has happened."  
  
A sleepy-eyed, ruffle-haired Haley stands in the doorway, framed a golden light – almost in an angelic fashion. But Lucas has a terrible gut feeling that she's a harbinger of bad news.  
  
"What is it, Hales?" Lucas asks.  
  
"Peyton and Tim," Haley whispers.  
  
Brooke's eyes dart to the skylight overhead – the rain falling, the lightning flashing, the thunder rolling, and her heart rises in her throat.  
  
"Oh god" are the only words she can verbalize as dark omens fester in her thoughts.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Next time on S.E. – Peyton and Tim... 


	15. Crashing

Within mere minutes, all four are piling themselves into Nathan's father's car – it is 5:30 in the morning. Brooke's wet hair is up in a messy bun; Haley's is cascading down her back like a chestnut-colored wave.  
  
They drive in silence as Nathan kicks the car in gear and speeds down the coastal road back towards the suburbs. Brooke grips Lucas' hand tightly, her breathing shallow – her eyes closed.  
  
Lucas stares blindly outside the car window – there are flecks of sunrise appearing slowly on the horizon, a pastel of orange and soft purple colors. Somewhere further beyond a symphony of frogs croak, with crickets chirping in the background.  
  
Haley James hides her face in an image of composure – embodying calm under pressure. Inside she's nervous, regretful at the fact that she barely knew either Tim or Peyton. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists.  
  
Nathan gazes intently at the street before him – scared at the prospect of what he may find as he turns the bend in the road. He's masked all of his emotions in a façade of arrogance, self-righteousness, and superiority. But now he just feels like a blubbering baby.  
  
Brooke opens her eyes, her jaw shaking slightly as she prepares to face her destiny – turn this page in her life – as the car stops at what appears to be a massacre.  
  
A barely-touched 18-wheeler is stopped in the middle of the road, the back- side tipped over with lumber that was being transported spilled out onto the asphalt. The backside protrudes into the grass beyond the pavement.  
  
But what resides further down the road is a sight that Brooke Davis will never forget for the rest of her life. As she steps from the car her heart stops beating, her lungs stop breathing, for only a second.  
  
Because, what little is left of Peyton Sawyer's vintage sports car is overturned and slammed into the stoplight standing like a solitary beacon in the eerie early-morning darkness.  
  
A gathering of ambulances, police cars, and a fire truck clog the small, rural road – the same road, Haley James realizes that a drugged Brooke, Peyton, and herself traveled down the first time she ever really bonded with Peyton Sawyer.  
  
Brooke begins to shake as she manages to place one foot in front of the other. She walks forward, against her better judgment, but blinded by her desire to know what was going on.  
  
The phone call Haley received had said that Peyton Sawyer had been involved in a serious car accident – this number had been given to the officer making the call by a wounded Peyton so he obliged.  
  
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask that you step aside," a tall policewoman says gently, reaching out to Brooke.  
  
"No – my friend... Oh my God, Peyton!" Brooke whispers dryly, sucking in a gasp of air as her hands cover her mouth.  
  
"The girl – oh." The woman realizes who these kids are, and gathers her thoughts. "She's been life-flighted off to the emergency room. A very serious accident took place here about forty-five minutes ago," the woman answers. Brooke falls to her knees, sobbing.  
  
"What about Tim – the other passenger," Nathan Scott manages to inquire hoarsely.  
  
It is then that Brooke sees through her tears to the wreckage, beyond the totaled car, to a hysterical Shari Smith – heaving into her barrel-chested husbands shoulder, as a young paramedic delivers news that no one should ever have to hear.  
  
"I'm so sorry – the paramedics weren't able to save him." The woman stops, obviously realizing the close friendship all of those gathered here had with the victims. "We think he was dead on impact. I'm so sorry. There's someone here that you can talk to if you like," the woman drones on. But no one else is listening.  
  
Nathan draws Haley to him. Her face is strong – her jaw stubbornly set firm; she won't allow herself to give into her emotions, her desire to sob.  
  
Brooke, on the other hand, wails on her knees, the hard concrete digging into her skin. Lucas gathers her close to him, letting her heave into his chest. He catches a glimpse of Shari Smith again and can't bear to look any longer.  
  
Brooke pulls away and looks up at him, her large eyes wet and glistening as water pours down her cheeks. Her hands grasp his face tightly. "Lucas – I cannot lose her. She can't die Lucas, she can't die!" Brooke cries as he pulls her against him again, this time to keep her from seeing the tears that he begins to shed.  
  
**********  
  
She never saw the truck coming down the road until it was too late – perhaps because of the passenger she had to carry or because of her sleepiness. But by the time she did, little could be done.  
  
It was estimated that Peyton Sawyer managed to swerve to her left where the 18-wheeler slammed into the passenger side, probably killing Tim Smith instantly. The vehicle then flipped once, twice, three times, landing roughly fifteen yards from the stopped truck.  
  
The driver immediately exited his vehicle and ran to the overturned sports car. There he managed to remove an extremely bloodied Peyton Sawyer from the vehicle – apparently from a gaping wound in her side and one in her forehead.  
  
The driver placed Peyton on the street, ripping off pieces of his clothing to use as a makeshift tourniquet. However, the whole right side of the vehicle was smashed, and he was unable to remove the seemingly unconscious male passenger from the car.  
  
Rushing back to his vehicle, the driver dialed 911 and the paramedics arrived roughly six minutes later. By then, Tim Smith was dead, and Peyton Sawyer was barely hanging. She provided them the only number she managed to remember off of the top of her head – her best friend, Brooke Davis' cell phone number. She was then immediately life-flighted to the hospital in Chapel Hill. Information regarding the girl's father was uncovered and telephone calls were made to inform him of his daughter's condition.  
  
**********  
  
Her broken chest rises and falls slowly – her once-vibrant golden curls hanging limply around her heavily-bandaged face.  
  
Nathan Scott can't bear to cry in public.  
  
Call it pride or just plain embarrassment; he has a problem shedding tears. But here – alone in this cold, dimly-light hospital room, Nathan wears his heart out on his sleeve.  
  
He apologizes for every wrong he ever committed towards Peyton Sawyer – every mistake he made in regards to what she did. He knows now that she deserved the best, everything he couldn't give to her back then.  
  
But he tells her he's better now – like a recovering alcoholic. She was right – Haley was just what he needed. He thanks her for teaching him to love, no matter how hard it was for him to show it.  
  
He's already lost his best friend – he doesn't want to say goodbye to another. Haley kisses his forehead and allows him to cry into her breast as she gazes towards Peyton, tears in her eyes. She prays for the friendship she was just beginning to know.  
  
**********  
  
Jake Jagielski carries the one woman he will always love in his arms as he sits next to a comatose Peyton Sawyer. He stares at her longingly – sadly. He blames himself for what happened: Tim's death, the accident, and Peyton. Why couldn't he have just stayed a little longer?  
  
"Take a look at the woman I want you to be, Jenny-baby," Jake says sadly as he holds the baby up to see the blonde. Jake leans down and kisses Peyton softly on her bandaged cheek.  
  
**********  
  
Brooke sits down in the chair slowly, biting her lower lip. Her eyes dart alongside Peyton's body – taking in the visual image of her best friend hanging on for her life. Her stomach churns and her hands shake as she pulls the chair up beside the blonde. She touches the cold steel of the bedside.  
  
She's stable – the doctors say – in a coma, but stable. The rest is up to God.  
  
Brooke breathes slowly as her hand finds Peyton's. It's cold, clammy, devoid of all warmth.  
  
She stares at her friend, inhaling deeply as her eyes begin to well up. There are many flowers arranged about the room. News of what happened only hours before has obviously traveled fast.  
  
"Looks like you're pretty popular," Brooke muses, smiling softly. "You even got roses, from Jake. And I always thought he was cheap...not to mention gay." She remembers how Peyton always rolled her eyes whenever Brooke commented on Jake's sexuality.  
  
You're such a dumbass, Brooke, she'd say.  
  
"Peyton – you have to wake up," Brooke says slowly, begging. "I need you to wake up." She begins to cry, and lowers her head – sobbing into the soft linen of the bed, her hands holding Peyton's. When she manages to regain her composure, she looks up at her friend again. She takes a deep breath, gathering her nerve, and continues.  
  
"Your dad's coming back from overseas. He was in Indonesia this time. Which is near Australia. Which is where all those hot surfer boys are! Remember Peyton? Remember how we'd always say that one day we'd pull an Anna Nicole and go knock up some rich dude and steal his money and run off to Australia? And have hot, passionate sex on a surfboard with some gorgeous guy? With long blonde hair? Remember?"  
  
The silence lingers on as Brooke strokes her friend's hand. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, Peyton? I would have come with you. Or we could have called Tim's mom. Why did you have to leave, Peyton?" More tears fall as Brooke closes her eyes, her breathing uneven.  
  
"You shouldn't be here, Peyton. You hate hospitals, ever since your mom. You should be out with me. We could go party again – hang out – rent those Tom Cruise movies and watch them till five in the morning! Anywhere but here. So just wake up. Wake up and come back to all of us."  
  
The door opens slowly and a light illuminates the small room. Lucas stands there, his head tilted as he sees Brooke leaning over her friend. He's so overcome with the scene that a tear escapes from his eye as he slowly walks forward.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
Brooke jumps at the sound of his voice.  
  
"She's – still in a coma."  
  
Lucas sits next to Brooke, his hand covering hers and Peyton's.  
  
"I want her to wake up, Lucas."  
  
"Me too – I need to tell her so many things."  
  
Brooke looks away from him and back to Peyton, her heart sinking.  
  
"Why did this have to be so awkward, Brooke? I mean – the three of us. I just wish there was an easier solution to everything."  
  
"We make our choices, I guess. And we can't live life with regrets."  
  
They stop talking for a long time – only staring as Brooke leans her head against Lucas' shoulder. They cry together, as the life they knew only days before begins to crumble down...  
  
They offer silent prayers to the one who holds Peyton's life by a thread.  
  
**********  
  
Brooke tosses and turns in her sleep as her door creaks open slowly. Light from the hallway enters the dark room, shining brightly on Brooke's sleeping face.  
  
She darts up, drawing in breath quickly. Marjorie opens the door completely. Brooke barely recognizes her – what without her makeup...and the stream of tears falling down her cheeks.  
  
"Mom...? Mom, what's wrong?"  
  
"Honey?" Marjorie Davis says slowly as she walks into the room and sits on Brooke's bed. It's four in the morning. "I just got a call from the hospital."  
  
"Oh no," Brooke says slowly, interrupting her mother.  
  
Marjorie nods sadly, gulping. "Peyton's...died. Baby, I am so sorry."  
  
Brooke sits up, stunned. Her throat catches and she turns to her mother and stares dumbly at her. Marjorie embraces her daughter, who falls into the woman reluctantly – not used to this expression. Marjorie begins to wail while Brooke seems to hold her, her heart breaking. Brooke's eyes are wide and watery as she gazes off into the room – still stunned, unable to register. She locks onto the picture frame on her dresser that says "Best Friends" with an image of Brooke and Peyton looking goofy for the camera.  
  
It is then that she begins to cry.  
  
********************************************************  
  
What's next on S.E. - Brooke, Lucas, Haley, Nathan, Theresa, and Jake all say goodbye to Tim and Peyton. 


	16. Testimony

I'm not too fond of this chapter – I actually think it's kind of weak and I apologize for the brevity. Expect more with the next update.  
  
********************************************************  
  
The rain falls relentlessly, the sky dark and cloudy, as an entourage of people fills up the small auditorium. They seat themselves mostly in silence, but the occasional whisper flickers throughout the crowd. Pretty much everyone from Tree Hill is in attendance, many shaking off wet umbrellas.  
  
It seems that today even God is crying.  
  
Brooke Davis sits, her face pale and emotionless, surrounded by her friends – albeit people that seem so monotonous and bland at the present moment. Her empty green eyes stare dully at the stage as the Tree Hill Chorus moves to the center, flanked by the orchestra.  
  
The director leads the ensemble in a somber rendition of Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You". Many begin to cry as the voices and melody join together in a longing, bittersweet symphony of goodbye. But Brooke remains unmoved – almost deaf to the world.  
  
The principal dismisses the choir and takes a microphone in his hand.  
  
"I'm sure that most of you are aware of the loss we all experienced over this past weekend." He pauses as the audience listens to him. "A tragic car accident stole the lives of two of our most prominent sophomores – two people that many of you were associated with.  
  
'We're here right now to celebrate the life of Peyton Sawyer, our head cheerleader, and Timothy Smith, a member of the varsity basketball team. The faculty is leaving the floor available to you all – for your testimonies and memories. And our counselors are always available for those of you closest to Peyton and Tim."  
  
He places the mic in a stand, then leaves to sit down in a chair.  
  
Silence follows the principal as students look to one another – daring the other to go first. The lingering silence is broken when Jake Jagielski rises from his seat and walks to the center. He nods to the principal then takes the microphone from its place.  
  
"I played basketball with Tim. I know that sometimes we'd clash – I guess because we didn't always understand each other. But he was a good guy, a good man. He was loyal and a disciplined player. I've been playing with him since I was a kid. It's really weird to not listen to him horse around in the showers after practice, or pull some kind of prank just to aggravate Whitey. I'm sure he's probably looking down and laughing like crazy after seeing all of us cry like idiots. We're really gonna miss him and my heart goes out to his family.  
  
'And, uh, Peyton was probably the best girl I have ever met. She had a heart of gold and she was genuine. I really felt like I could trust her with my life. As some of you know, and others may not, I have an infant daughter. And I'm not ashamed of her anymore because Peyton wouldn't be. I just wish that Peyton was still around so Jenny could know her – because I wish she could see the woman that I'll always love." He stops, his throat catching. But he refuses to cry. "Thanks."  
  
Jake goes back to his seat, surrounded by Nathan, Lucas, and the rest of the basketball team. Brooke looks around at the other cheerleaders, the sound of Theresa sobbing beside her. Brooke puts a reassuring hand on her hysterical friend's shoulder, then looks back to the middle of the gymnasium as another student takes the stage. Then another. And finally, Lucas Scott.  
  
"I don't really have a lot to say that hasn't been said already," Lucas begins, picking up the microphone. "Tim was a great guy, and even though we didn't initially hit it off, I really grew to respect the guy. The team has gotten really tight and it's a shame to see him go.  
  
'There will never be another girl like Peyton – no girl that has ever made me feel so strange, and different, and alive...except for one." Lucas stops, his eyes finding Brooke's. She sees them well up with tears, his blue eyes becoming more and more crystalline. "I guess you could say that Peyton taught me how to love. I never really knew how until she caused me to experience someone or something that I couldn't have conceived to happen.  
  
'Peyton was an amazing person. Her life was taken too early – she never got to experience so many things that she deserved to – things that I got to that she deserved more than me." Lucas stops. "Excuse me."  
  
Turning quickly he strides towards the door, exiting quickly. Brooke gazes after him. She gives Theresa a quick hug then rises and descends down the bleachers, following Lucas. She runs out the door, as it closes gently behind her.  
  
Lucas Scott is facing the wall, bawling like a baby.  
  
"Lucas...?"  
  
He turns quickly, his eyes red. "I'm sorry Brooke. If anyone should be like this it should be you. Not me."  
  
"Lucas – that's not true. Peyton was everything you said she was." Brooke looks at Luke longingly as he turns. Her hands hold his face firmly as her thumbs wipe away his tears – it's her turn to console him. "She shouldn't have gone like that. But Peyton wouldn't want you like this, Lucas."  
  
"She was so alone, Brooke. She felt like...like everyone was against her and that she had nothing. Her dad wasn't even here when she died - why didn't she just hang on a little bit longer?"  
  
"She's not gone, Luke. I know it's corny, and cheesy, but she's here. I see her in my pictures, or when I look through magazines, or go to the mall. I'll remember her in the hall – when I walk by her locker, or when I sit by her desk in chemistry. Lucas, she's all around us, baby," Brooke says softly, stroking his cheek.  
  
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, she repeats over and over in her head.  
  
Brooke kisses his forehead and embraces him.  
  
"I'm thankful to her, Brooke," Lucas whispers in her ear.  
  
"Why is that?" Brooke asks, looking up at him.  
  
"Because she's the reason I have you."  
  
Brooke smiles sadly at Lucas, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks Luke." They hug, tightly, and Brooke takes him by the hand. "I think we owe it to her to go back inside."  
  
Lucas nods as they embrace the light of the gymnasium.  
  
********************************************************** Up next – funerals, and Brooke and Nathan share a moment as they say farewell to their best friends. 


	17. Goodbye

Disclaimer Lyrics to 'Answer' by Sarah McLachlan.  
  
It's wet and damp as a stark, cold gale breezes through the eerie light of the dreary afternoon. Somewhere a bird chirps, but overhead the skies are dark with the promise of oncoming rain. She sniffs the air – and all she smells is the stringent, painful scent of mourning.  
  
It's not supposed to be this way, she knows as her feet shift within her black pumps. Peyton Sawyer wouldn't have wanted to go out this way. Perhaps this is what some people might have surmised her final exit to be like – but Brooke knew otherwise. Brooke scoffs off the preacher and the person selected to deliver the eulogy. They're barely scratching the surface.  
  
It's suddenly cold and Brooke Davis wraps her arms about her black-clad body and shivers. She feels clammy and sick and ill and would rather be anywhere but here but knows she has to be and all she wants to do is vomit and cry and sob and wail and scream and blame God and cry some more...  
  
But if this terrible, tragic incident has taught Brooke Davis anything, it's that crying won't save anyone. There's no retribution – no retaliation – for what happened. And Brooke just can't bring herself to blame God.  
  
She doesn't hear anything anymore, almost as if she's numb to the pain due to prolonged exposure - exposure to sadness, depression, and questions that will never have an answer. Like why this had to happen? And why to Peyton? If anyone had this coming, Brooke knew without a shadow of a doubt her karma was her damning downfall.  
  
But – much like crying – pondering over the machinations of something that had already occurred would do nothing more than harbor and fuel resentment and anger. And she couldn't handle anymore of that right now. She was on overload.  
  
Some pretty girl from school leads a small ensemble of students from Tree Hill High as they sing some melodious, haunting tune – Natalie Merchant's 'Kind and Generous', Brooke thinks, but she can't be sure. She fidgets in her chair. This whole situation is uncomfortable and Brooke isn't sure, but she thinks that she may be sick. That rancid, bitter taste is formulating in the back of her throat and all she wants to do is go home to her alcohol – her saving grace. At least that makes this whole situation seem bearable.  
  
Brooke takes one long look around at those sitting near her. In front of her are Nathan, Haley, and Theresa, with Jake and his daughter a little further down the row. Haley and Theresa are both crying softly. Next to Nathan sits Deb and Dan – and Brooke can taste the palpable tension between the two. Apparently even death couldn't bring those two together. Brooke looks next to her and sees Karen, Keith, and him...Lucas.  
  
He's been distant – his eyes are empty and Brooke knows this whole death thing has hit him especially hard. She'll never understand that to Lucas the triangle seemed almost like a betrayal to the blonde cheerleader – that he choosing Brooke left Peyton with nothing, no one, nada. And that he felt she died completely and utterly alone. Brooke's green eyes linger on his face and then she averts her gaze, staring ahead again. When she turns, he looks at her mournfully, his sapphire orbs full of liquid, his mouth quivering. And all he wants is to reach out to her and reassure her because he knows she's taking this harder than him – probably harder than any of them. But he feels this guilt burning in him like a knife in his side.  
  
And he, too, looks back at the preacher before him.  
  
The congregation dissipates as the two caskets stand like beacons amidst the green grass, trees, and concrete tombstones awaiting their plunge into the soft ground below. A soft, hazy drizzle falls as Brooke makes her way through the wet lawn beneath her high-heeled feet. She steps lightly so as not to sink – both into the muddy grass and as she tries to stay afloat surrounded by everything going on.  
  
Something tells her she's failing miserably.  
  
Larry Sawyer and the Smith family decided that the funeral services for Tim and Peyton would be simultaneous – as they shared a majority of the same friends. It saved them all a trip.  
  
Brooke looks forlornly as Larry Sawyer's shaking hand rests on the closed casket, his shoulders heaving as he sobs quietly, a handkerchief held to his face to stifle the noise. Shari Smith and her husband look to be in roughly the same condition.  
  
"I guess she's with her mom now."  
  
Brooke turns quickly, caught off guard, and forces a smile onto her face at Lucas' approach. She's happy he's here but knows something is amiss. Things haven't been normal since the accident.  
  
"Yeah," Brooke replies quietly as she tilts her head, her styled hair falling in her face. But she can't take her eyes off of Larry Sawyer. She can empathize with him. "I miss her Luke."  
  
"Yeah. Me too." She feels him take her hand as their fingers lace together. He pulls her hand up to his lips and softly kisses the back. Somehow the gesture stabilizes her. She looks into his eyes and finally feels like it's safe to break down, to succumb. That he'll hold her in this weakened state and guard her from whatever demons could consume her in her vulnerability.  
  
But the reality is that he is just as frail as she is.  
  
Her chin quivers and she quickly looks away, swatting a tear from the corner of her eye. But he takes her in his arms, resting his chin on her head, despite his languor.  
  
"It's ok, Brooke. You don't have to be strong anymore."  
  
She smiles tenderly against the soft linen of his polo shirt. He's trying to be tough, to be a man. Gotta give him points for his effort. But her stubbornness soon falters and somehow the tears start rolling slowly down her cheeks, then with a greater velocity. She doesn't understand how, because she thinks she's controlling it all – controlling her emotions and her pain. She was almost positive she had it in check. But finally the bloody obvious dawns on her ... it's not about her anymore.  
  
"You should go say goodbye."  
  
She looks up at him; her face is streaked with these tears she didn't want to shed here, resentful and angry and pissed off that she did. But she knows what she's got to do, what she's morally obligated to do...and what she came here to do.  
  
Brooke Davis nods, and looks at the ground. She forces a smile and wipes her eyes. Playfully she punches his pectoral.  
  
"You got it."  
  
Lucas nods and leans in to kiss her forehead. Brooke closes her eyes, savoring the moment. Her hands go up to his soft cheeks. "Thank you, Lucas. I know how hard this is for you and I'm very, very grateful to have you here with me."  
  
"It's what you deserve Brooke," he smiles. "You shouldn't have to be alone in something like this. And I'm sorry about the way I'm acting..." He pauses, as his eyes lock intently on hers, honed straight in to her soul. "I'll work all this out, I promise."  
  
Brooke nods, holding her forced smile. "I know you will." She kisses him softly then turns.  
  
"Want me to wait up for you?" Lucas asks.  
  
"Nah," she grins despite it all. "Go on ahead; I'll call you later."  
  
God, she's a good actress.  
  
And since he has nothing more to say, Lucas Scott takes one look at the casket and looks at his loafer-clad feet, his face completely devoid of all emotion, even his despondency. He watches Brooke go, then turns down the sidewalk towards the car, hiding his tears from all those around.  
  
For some reason the sun manages to permeate through the clouds, gravitating down to the small area that hosts Tim and Peyton's respective final resting places like a holy sanctum. Larry Sawyer has obviously finished everything, having lost everything he had left to live for. Brooke's heart breaks for him as she slowly walks onto the concrete dais.  
  
Having been leaning against the wooden funerary box, Larry stands, his hand resting on the mahogany surface. He sees Brooke and smiles.  
  
"Bet you never thought you'd see me like this, huh Brookey?" He laughs.  
  
Brooke tries to smile reassuringly, to let the man know that everything hasn't left him. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Sawyer."  
  
"Don't be, Brooke. You knew her better than I did. I worked so hard to make her happy that I missed seeing my own daughter grow up." His eyes travel from the bin back to Brooke. "But you were. And for that I couldn't be more thankful."  
  
"Mr. Sawyer, I couldn't have been any luckier to have a person like Peyton to keep my in check."  
  
He acknowledges her solemnly. "I know she valued your friendship more than anything in the world." He walks towards her and places his hand on her shoulder and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks again for being there, Brookey. Don't be a stranger around the place. I don't know if I'd be able to stand that."  
  
She hugs him and then he leaves, walking off into the surreal, hazy light beyond.  
  
Brooke turns back to Peyton and clears her throat, high heels clip-clapping on the cold, hard landing beneath her feet. "Well girlfriend, looks like it's just you and me now." She stands against the large crate and caresses the top, imagining the beautiful girl beneath. "I hope they didn't make you out all froofy. I picked out your grungiest, punkiest clothes possible so you shouldn't have anything to bitch about."  
  
Brooke Davis swallows as a lump formulates in her throat. "I don't have much time – but I guess I just wanted to thank you. Without you, I don't know if I'd be here today." Her fingers travel down the intricately carved ridges of the burgundy casket as she stares at nothing in particular. "You're really the first person I ever truly loved."  
  
She steps away – nothing is left to say. Her head bobs as she remembers something.  
  
"Oh – I almost forgot." She reaches into her Louis Vuitton and pulls out a framed picture – the same picture Brooke gazed into that night her mother informed her of Peyton's death ... the one with 'Best Friend's' scrawled across the top. Their faces are priceless.  
  
"We are some hot bitches," she giggles despite the barrage of tears. Brooke places the picture on top of the casket. "And just for frosting on the cake..." She places the Beyoncé Knowles CD beneath it. "Sorry – I just thought maybe you'd be haunted by my music forever in eternity." Brooke laughs as she imagines Peyton cringing at her friend's shallower taste in music. Regardless, Brooke kneels down and kisses the top of the casket.  
  
"Thanks again," she says softly, sadly, as her voice catches in her throat. "You're the best, ever."  
  
Finally, she turns to Tim's casket and smiles. "You too buddy – you're the one guy I never got around to scoring with. Boy you missed out," she chuckles. "You always seemed to make everything more light-hearted. And, what with all this drama we sure as hell needed that."  
  
"I'll have to agree with you on that one."  
  
Brooke turns again, startled for the second time today.  
  
"Nathan." She smiles slowly, sadly. "People have got to start telling me before they sneak up and scare the shit outta me." She reaches into her purse again and dabs at her eyes, smearing her mascara.  
  
"That was sweet, I didn't know you were capable of being that compassionate," Nathan beams sarcastically, not unkindly.  
  
"Yeah – neither did I," she laughs quietly. "Didn't mean to go all Oprah in front of you."  
  
"It's no problem, Brooke. I guess it's good to know someone's going through what I'm feeling."  
  
"I guess. How have you been?" she inquires softly, her face sympathetic.  
  
"I'm ok," the tall, dark-haired boy replies. "You?"  
  
"Been better."  
  
Nathan nods, and then turns to look at both of the caskets. "You know, the one thing I regret the most out of any of the shitty, terrible things I've ever done was the way things ended with Peyton."  
  
"Don't regret it, Nathan." Brooke places a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder. "If Peyton couldn't make a man out of you, I know for a fact she was glad you found someone who could finally come through in that department." Brooke smiles at Nathan, who returns her gaze and smiles hesitantly in turn.  
  
"Tim was a really good guy, you know. I know a lot of people think he was just fun and games, living for the moment – and I know sometimes I took him for granted... But the guy was really the only constant in my life. And now that that's gone I'm getting so much closer to being alone..."  
  
Brooke can barely believe what she's seeing: Nathan Scott, the quintessential epitome of machismo, big shot bad boy's lip shaking. He's on the verge of tears and Brooke's stunned, but manages to regain her composure.  
  
"Nah, Nate. I know this is corny as hell but they're only gone if you let them be. And I don't know about you – but I'm not prepared to do that." Her hands dig into his shoulders as she stares at him hard. "Peyton's made me the person I am now, like she did to you. The same with Tim. They're a part of us."  
  
Brooke embraces Nathan Scott and they stand, clasping eachother and crying for what seems like an eternity. As they finally let go of each other Nathan laughs. "Thanks Brooke."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Let's get outta here," Nathan declares as he descends the steps into the lawn.  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Brooke says, following in step.  
  
But not before a final goodbye; she looks over her shoulder one last time. "You're angels – both of you."  
  
And then it's over, and Brooke feels a weight lifted off of her shoulders.  
  
But sadly – it's a weight she's not sure she wants gone.  
  
...Until the stars have all burnt out, you'll still be burning so bright, cast me gently into morning, for the night has been unkind... 


End file.
